by Martha Carr
Raven picked up the Basic Spells book and moved down to the Potions and Poisons, taking one from each pile as the books magically replenished themselves. She could hear Avery behind her, saying, “Hi, I’m Avery. I’m a senior running for student council…”
Raven slid her satchel off and pushed the books in, hoisting it back onto her shoulder. Henry came up behind her, balancing his books. “I hope we don’t have to bring all of them every day. I’m beginning to rethink the whole live-at-home thing.”
“Your parents said you had to so you could help out.”
“Yeah, well, there’s that. Ooh, hey, next table is wands.” Henry held onto his stack of books and jogged to the next table. Raven was right behind him and leaned closer to see what they were doing. “Put out your hand,” said a tall, broad teenage boy behind the table. Henry’s hand shot out, eager to see what came next.
The teenager tried different wands in Henry’s hand, waiting a moment. “No, not that one. Nope, that’s not gonna work either. Hang on, where did you say you were from? What part of the kingdom?”
“Brighton, nearby.”
“Right, okay, let me see.” The young man looked under the table and dug out a smooth dark redwood wand and laid it in Henry’s hand. The stick gave a slight tremor, shimmying across his palm. “That tickles!”
“Yep, that’s the one! Next!”
“Wait, what do I do with this?”
“Keep it safe, and don’t wave it around until someone teaches you how to use it. Next!”
Raven put out her hand. “I’m from Brighton too.” She waited as the young man went through the same process, starting with the smooth redwood, but nothing worked. The teenager scratched his head. “This is usually a lot easier.” He unleashed a frustrated sigh. “I’ve got a couple more. You sure you can do magic?”
Raven was surprised to feel a jolt of anger run through her at the suggestion she couldn’t pull off a simple spell. “I’m positive.” She pushed her hand a little farther. “Try another one.”
“Okay, but…”
“Just try…please.”
“Fine, but this is the last one, I think. It’s made from willow. I don’t think it’s worked for anyone.” He laid it across Raven’s hand and started when it began slowly spinning in her palm. His eyebrows went up, and he took a small step back, watching the wand connect with Raven.
He looked up at the young mage. “That’s interesting.” He nodded his head. “Respect, you found your wand.” Then, he was on to the next student. “Okay, who’s next? Put out your hand.”
Henry was already at the supplies table with his satchel open, gathering up dried herbs and glass vials. Raven tucked the wand into her satchel next to the books and squeezed her hand shut, a tingle running across it. She made her way to the table and picked up one from each pile, grabbing a muslin bag at the end of the table and depositing everything into it.
“Two to go,” said Henry. “What’s after this?”
“I guess we hang out until we wanna head down the road.”
“Sweet! Best day ever.” He took off for the weapons table at a trot, letting out a loud whoop. Raven caught up to him as the grumpy dwarf behind the counter said, “Slow your roll, son. This is fantastic, serious business. We’re entrusting you with your first official school weapon.” The dwarf held up a small dagger with a slim handle. “Now, this may not look like much, but a dagger comes in handy when you least expect it. The handle is perfectly balanced, and the blade is finely ground on both sides.” He slid it into the leather sheath and handed it to Henry, keeping eye contact with him, a scowl on his face. “Don’t let me hear about you waving this around and whooping it up out on the green this afternoon.”
“No, sir. No, you won’t.” Henry had a stony expression until the dwarf looked away. He gave a quick thumbs up to Raven. She smiled at her friend until the dwarf looked at her with the same scowl, and she stood stock-still, biting her lip.
“Young lady, your first school dagger.” The dwarf put it in her outstretched hands, the handle facing her, and arched an eyebrow at her. “No shenanigans,” he growled.
“No, sir, none. Not any.”
Raven backed a step, turned slowly, and walked away, not letting out the breath she was holding until she was close to the last table. “That was scary,” said Raven. She looked at Henry, but he was occupied with whatever they were doing at the station. Raven leaned around him for a better look, and her eyes widened.
Professor Gilliam was taking a small stone with a rune carved on the top and placing it on a female student’s forearm. “Ab aliis,” she said, moving her hand in a continuous circle over the stone. Slowly, the stone turned to ash, and the rune appeared on the teenager’s skin, disappearing as it sank into her arm.
The professor peered up and said sharply, “Next!”
Henry pushed Raven ahead of him, and Professor Gilliam stared at her, another stone in her hand, waiting for Raven’s arm. “Your arm.”
Raven hesitated and blew out a breath of air. “Do you mind if I ask what that’s for, exactly?”
The professor tilted her head to the side. “Didn’t you read the syllabus we sent home? It’s your I.D., and you’ll use it to get meals or gain access to certain areas like this arena. It’s perfectly harmless and disappears once you’re no longer enrolled at Fowler. Now, come on, there’s a lot of others waiting behind you. If you’re going to go here, you’ll need a rune.”
She waggled her fingers at Raven until she put out her arm. Raven felt the cool smooth texture of the stone lightly balancing on her skin. “Ab aliis,” said Professor Gilliam, and the rock began to disintegrate slowly, warming Raven’s forearm. A rune briefly appeared before sinking deep into her arm, leaving a faint buzz that traveled up to her shoulder and disappeared.
“That was so cool,” whispered Raven, her eyes wide.
“What she said,” said Henry, putting out his arm.
Raven waited until he was done, shifting the heavy bag on her shoulder, and they went outside together, still holding out their arms and looking at where the rune had appeared. Most of the students outside were doing the same thing.
The next few hours were a blur of meeting new people and making Henry put away his dagger and wandering all over the grounds, looking in every building and trying to find a place they could make the rune work again, with no luck.
By the time Raven made it back to the Alby Ranch gate, she was barely holding up the satchel. “See you in a couple days?”
“If I don’t see you sooner,” said Henry, their usual answer since they were little.
Raven trudged past the fields and the dwarf goat barns and the cabins for the ranch hands, making her way to the house she shared with her grandfather.
“How was your first day?” asked Connor Alby, smoothing down his snow-white hair.
Raven looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder as she gave a sleepy yawn. “Amazing, fantastic, the best!”
Her grandfather chuckled, setting his hands on his hips. “Are you hungry? I’ve got a stew warming on the stove.”
“Sure, yeah…I could eat,” said Raven, dreamily as she made her way down the hall to her room to drop off her bag.
Later, her grandfather went back to check and found Raven cradling her arm with the new rune, fast asleep. He smiled and pulled off her boots, pulling the blanket over her and kissed her forehead.
“Tomorrow is another adventure, my dear. Sleep tight ‘til then.”
Chapter Two
Deacon lay outstretched on his bed, resting his long, weary legs from another day of hard work. He waved his calloused hand dramatically at the window. “You have to be crazy! Look out the window. The sun is setting, man. There is no way you’re going back out there.” A look of dread came over his face.
Isaac pulled back the curtain covering the small window of their two-person, one-room wooden cabin that sat toward the middle of the Alby Ranch. A bright orange sliver peeked out over the horizon. “Not if I
move quickly enough. I’m not afraid. Besides, those are just old stories about monsters told to scare children.” He punched his fist into his hand. “I have to get that harvester back.”
Deacon sat up in his bed, massaging his sore calves. “Do you even know where you left it?”
Isaac closed one eye and looked up at the thatched roof, biting his lip. His thick brown mustache curled into his mouth. “It couldn’t be more than a few dozen yards from the wall. We didn’t go out that far today, did we?”
“Nope. The polly grass was great—more than we even needed for the goats. I bet we get two, maybe three days of feed for them out of that once we grind it up.” He tilted his head back and forth, stretching out the muscles in his neck. “Makes for a good day at the office. Hell if I’m going outside the wall for longer than I need to be. Even in the daylight, it gives me the creeps.”
Isaac marched over to the door and began shoving his feet into his work boots. Dried caked-on mud crumbled off the edges and piled up on the woven rug. “It’s not a good day at the shop if I don’t get that harvester back.”
“What is the big deal? We probably got others out in the shed. And if not, Old Man Alby’s making good money right now. Ask him to buy you another one.”
“No, he won’t.” Isaac slipped on his olive canvas work coat. “The old wizard doesn’t want to foot the bill for another one. I know, because I lost one a couple months ago and he pissed and moaned about it so much, you woulda thought I lost his granddaughter or something. I could lose this job if he wakes up in the morning, and that harvester isn’t here.”
Deacon shot another concerned glance out the window. “You taking a horse? You better haul ass if you’re going. Once that sun is down…”
“Horses are worth more than I am. I’m going alone, and I’ll deal with it. Back in a few.” Isaac pulled open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
Deacon lay back down on his bed and sighed, closing his eyes. “Back in a few. If you make it back at all.”
Next to the door, Isaac reluctantly grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows hanging from a thick, rusty nail. I’m a piss-poor shot, but it’ll at least give me a chance if I need it. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He was afraid of the coming darkness and what it might hold, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
A dim shade covered the ranch as the sun sunk beneath the horizon. His boots flopped around loosely off his heels. He didn’t think he had time to tie them.
The gate to the Alby Goat Ranch was less than a mile from the border wall. Isaac jogged to the gate, awkwardly clutching the bow as the quiver of arrows bounced wildly on his shoulder. He stared down the gate, determined to get out and back as quickly as possible.
Sitting at the gate, two other ranch hands laughed wildly, one of them gesturing with his hands as he told a story about pulling the winning hand at a card game. “I could feel it the moment I saw my cards,” said Henry, his eyes gleaming. “Won the pot!”
“Isaac!” Henry shouted to him as he approached the gate. “What the hell are you doing out so late? It’s not your night to stand watch. Mick, you invite him?” He elbowed his friend in the ribs, laughing and displaying a gap in his front teeth from one too many card games gone wrong.
Mick took a swig of clear moonshine from a thick glass jar. “You comin’ to keep us company, Isaac? What a sweetheart.”
Isaac slowed to a brisk walk and chuckled at the two of them. “Yeah, right, like you bastards need company. You’re loud enough already.”
Henry chuckled, swiping the jar from Mick’s hands to take a drink. “You got that right. But when you’re loud, the elves stay away, man.”
“We do what we gotta do to stay awake.” Mick sniffed and stood up to stretch out his back. “Can’t be sleeping on the job.”
“The way you two are drinking, I bet there will be plenty of sleeping happening tonight. While I’m out, I’ll let the elves know you’ll be passed out before the sun’s all the way down.”
Henry slapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously, what are you doing out? You got a hot date in town?”
“Yeah, right. No, I can’t sit here and talk. I gotta go get my harvester from the other side.”
Mick spat into the dirt and looked at Isaac as if he’d seen a ghost. “The other side? Of what, of the wall?”
“Yep.”
“Are you out of your mind? It’s practically dark! Whatever you left out there is gone, man.”
“Not if I move fast enough. Besides, anybody out there tries messing with me, I’ll bury an arrow between their eyes.” He charged past them, kicking up dirt as his boots slammed against the ground.
“They don’t all got eyes, Isaac.” Henry crossed his legs, trying to look casual. “Some of them can feel the rumbling of your footsteps. I’ve even heard there’s something out there with more arms and legs than you can count. No eyes, no face, just big and angry. And strong.”
Isaac stopped to turn and watched him as he described the creature. His throat had grown dry, and he swallowed hard. “That’s a bunch of bull,” he said, trying to hide the nervous quiver in his voice. “No one under seventy has ever actually seen one, and there aren’t many left still alive over that age. Hell, half the time, those drunks in town just like to make shit up to scare people. You know how people are in Brighton. I’ll be back in less than ten minutes.” The words spilled out of him.
Mick shook his head. “If you say so. We’ll save you some hooch just in case.” Isaac jogged off and out of earshot as Mick leaned into Henry. “I’m saving him a swig, and if he ain’t back in fifteen, I’m drinking it.”
Henry lifted the jar to his lips. “I have a feeling you’ll be drinking it, alright.”
Isaac made a beeline for the wall, spotting the small Worker’s Gate. There was one guard on duty sitting in an old wooden chair that was always sitting there.
Isaac glanced at the horizon as he ran. Come on, stay with me. Just keep that sliver of light there for a few more minutes. His heart was beating faster as he ran, and he licked his lips nervously.
Once he reached the Worker’s Gate, he stopped to catch his breath.
“What are you doing here, Isaac?” Jackson looked at him over his wire-rimmed glasses.
“I lost a harvester, and I gotta go get it.” He nodded hard, pressing his lips together.
Jackson sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the sun. “Almost dark, Isaac. Nobody’s fool enough to head out after dark.”
“You know what’ll happen if that thing is lost forever. I can’t afford to lose this job. I’ll be in and out.”
“The going out is up to you. I’m just here to be careful about who’s coming in.”
“Okay, well, then I’m going.”
“Suit yourself.” Jackson leaned back in the chair, settling his chin on his chest.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay awake?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in your cabin? Nothing ever happens around here anyway. Hurry now, and don’t wake me when you go by.”
“Not much of an alarm system.”
“One more word, and I’ll report you for that harvester either way.”
“Never mind. I’m going. Don’t let me disturb you.”
Every muscle in Isaac’s body ached from the workday, but the prospect of stepping outside the wall at dusk had filled him with so much adrenaline, he hardly noticed his sore muscles.
Lifting the iron crossbar on the tall wooden gate always made a loud creak. He looked back for a moment, but no one was stirring.
He scanned the immediate area. Interior lights were on in most of the long low clay buildings nearby. It was dusk, which meant dinnertime when most of the kingdom retreated into their homes and secured their properties for the evening.
Isaac lifted the crossbar off the gate. A loud squeak filled the air for a moment. He winced as the sound echoed down the road, but nobody or nothing jumped up at him.
“Better hurry,” said Jackson, his e
yes still shut.
Out and back.
Setting the crossbar aside, Isaac pushed open the door and stuck his head out, viewing the land that stretched out beyond the wall. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he stepped out and pushed the gate shut behind him.
The harvest had been off to the left. Isaac ran toward the smooth patch of grass where it had been cut down, every step filling him with dread.
Hours earlier, the sun had been shining on this land, making it look like an idyllic pasture where villagers could bask in the breeze that bent the long grass. At that hour, however, the area appeared to Isaac part wasteland and part war zone—dark, grim, empty.
“Please let it be empty,” he spoke, clenching his fists at his side.
Isaac reached the section of the patch where he had been working and looked at the horizon, silently begging the sun to stick around as it dropped into the background. The light was so dim he could hardly see. He squinted, trying to make out the glint of his metal harvester, but it was too dark already, and he couldn’t make it out.
Don’t stand there. Move!
Isaac slung the bow over his shoulder and dropped to his hands and knees, frantically feeling around for the harvester. “Damn thing has to be here,” he whispered, thrusting out his hands, trying not to worry about breaking a bone if his hand were to strike the tool. He couldn’t let himself worry about that. Even a broken bone would be preferable to falling victim out here.
To his relief, the back of his hand struck metal. “Yes!” he whispered, crawling the few feet in that direction. He grabbed his harvester from the grass and stood up. He turned to face the farm, and his stomach sank at the barely visible glow of house lights over the wall.
I didn’t realize just how far off we worked today. Shit, I have to move.
Isaac tucked the harvester under his arm and hurried in the direction of the gate when he felt a slight rumbling under his feet. He stopped dead in his tracks, frozen, while he listened for movement.