by J. M. Briggs
He kept an eye on the area around the road as he walked. It was a quiet day. He could hear nearby birds and movement in the underbrush, but it was subdued. It was as if the animals were as downcast about the strange creatures as the humans. Dobiemir eyed the graying leaves of the underbrush, which was a sharp reminder that the strange cold of the creatures could be affecting the wild plants and animals just as badly. It would all tie together.
Maybe he needed to focus more on hunting and smoking meat. His father had taught him some basic traps, and while he wasn’t skilled, surely it was worth the time if it secured a little more food for the winter. Suddenly the sky began to darken, turning the day from afternoon to dusk all in a moment. Dobiemir stopped immediately, his eyes searching for any sign of the shadows, and hoped that they’d just pass by. A chill began to descend over him like falling snow, and he inhaled the now bitterly cold air with a sharp sniff.
Very slowly, he turned his head to look behind him. He could see the village in the distance down by the river. It seemed brighter and clearer than anything around him. It was just near him then. That wasn’t as reassuring as he would have hoped, but it should mean that Slavko was safe; unless they’d come from that way. Fear clutched at his heart, squeezing it tighter — the image of his son shivering, or worse, dead under the blankets.
Then, two shadows stepped out onto the road, their coats shimmering in the dimmed daylight. Dobiemir stood frozen, hoping, praying to every deity he could think of that they would just move on. He’d never seen more than one at a time. They were similar, but one was more cat-like, while the other seemed to have the snout of a bear. It made no sense to him. He didn’t care. They approached him, sniffing at the air and moving with slow, measured steps.
There was a tree near the edge of the road that looked strong enough to hold him and had lower branches. He debated the likelihood of tossing his pack at the shadows and making it to the tree before they were on him. Dobiemir doubted he could, but began moving his arms to shift the bundle of leather and blankets. His heart was racing now, his blood pounding in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear anything else.
But there was a sound behind him — the cracking of a branch. Both of the shadows stopped and shifted away from him just enough to see beyond him. Dobiemir’s knees quivered. His head felt light, and he wondered what was behind him. The shadows growled, but he didn’t dare look. The cold radiating from them was cutting into his legs, stabbing into his bones. Lightheaded, it was all he could to stay upright.
Light exploded behind him. It was warm against his back, and a sigh of relief escaped him as the warmth traveled down his aching legs. The shadows snarled and leapt past him, running for something that he couldn’t see. Stumbling forward, Dobiemir gulped at the air greedily to fight off the blackness dancing at the edge of his vision. He turned around, almost tripping.
The two strangers were on the road, both still wearing their cloaks. But their hands were bright with strange, unfamiliar light. Around the woman’s hands were silver sparks that were twisting together to form a whip. The man was surrounded by green sparks. They weren’t running. They didn’t seem afraid. The shadows stopped a few feet from them. Swallowing, Dobiemir backed away from the strangers and shadows. His legs were still too sore, too tired to run.
For a moment neither human nor shadow moved. Then they all moved at once. Light exploded around the woman, blinding him. Blinking rapidly, he didn’t dare move. His ears strained for any clue as to where the shadows were. As the light cleared and his vision returned, he found the man and woman facing off against the two shadows. Fire whipped through the air around the man, but the creatures kept advancing. The woman shouted for him to run, but Dobiemir couldn’t make his legs move. His heart was pounding. It was hard to breathe, and he just wanted to run. But the creatures were closing in on the strangers.
“What does it take to kill these things?” the woman snapped. More light flashed out around them, burning bright spots into Dobiemir’s eyes. But it didn’t stop the creatures. The light vanished into their pitch-dark bodies without even slowing them down. “Merlin? Any ideas?”
The man waved his hand, and the green sparks rushed forth as beams of light, striking at the shadows, but once more there was no sign of injury. The two shadow creatures snarled and jumped for the man. Merlin waved his hand, and a wave of green sparks caught the monsters and tossed them away. As they hit the ground, the creatures snarled and twisted back to face the strangers. If two felt any pain they didn’t show it, and instead they lunged at the man once more.
“Morgana!” Merlin shouted.
Screaming, the woman snapped both hands out and fire flashed out in a ring, catching both of the shadows, but stopping mere inches from Dobiemir. Gasping, he stumbled back. These people had powers like the gods. Were they gods? He didn’t know. Terror and awe kept him in place. Worry hummed through his veins as they launched more attacks. Nothing stopped the creatures. Fire and light vanished into their black bodies, and the cold surrounding them grew worse and worse. Shivering, Dobiemir clenched his teeth together. The pain in his legs was back, worse than before.
“Nothing’s working!” Morgana shouted.
“I’ll try to contain them!”
The earth beneath his feet trembled. Stumbling to the right, Dobiemir tracked the movements of the creatures as they hissed and snarled. Then slabs of rock shot up from the ground, creating a wall between Dobiemir and the creatures. Another slab sprang forth, next to the first. Then another and another until the creatures were walled in. Sighing in relief, Dobiemir’s legs nearly collapsed under him.
“That won’t hold them for long!” the man shouted. “Run! Move!”
“Let me try again,” the woman snapped. A large glowing orb of light appeared above her right hand, but it did nothing against the cold and unsettling darkness around them. She threw the orb forward, letting it drop into the makeshift pen, but it did nothing. One of the creatures sprang up and began climbing over the wall. “What-”
“My home,” Dobiemir gasped. “This way, down the road.”
“Morgana,” the man said. “Hurry!”
“But-”
“We don’t know how to stop them,” the man said. “Live today, fight tomorrow!”
“They’ll leave,” Dobiemir said. “After a while, they just leave!”
He didn’t wait to see what she’d say. As she started to turn towards him, Dobiemir somehow made his legs work and began to run down the path. He hoped that his rescuers were following him, but didn’t dare look back to be sure. Urging his legs to move faster, Dobiemir prayed that the creatures wouldn’t follow. He didn’t look back at the strangers. They were running too: he could hear their breathing and footfalls. They’d commanded fire and light and earth, and still hadn’t stopped the creatures.
Despite the burning in his chest, they kept running. The snarls behind them faded. New fears began to creep in. What if the creatures didn’t just move off this time, but attacked the village or retaliated against someone else? Was this some sort of test from the gods? Or a punishment, and the pair of strangers with him had done something horrible in fighting? Sweat gathered at the back of his neck and across his palms. Still, they’d helped him.
His home came into view, and the cold was fading away. With every stride, the world brightened. Fresh air filled his lungs and a grateful cry tore from his mouth. Tears of relief gathered in his eyes. A sheep in the yard baaed at him as he came to a stop in front of the house. Taking in several deep gasps of air, he turned to face his rescuers, looking at the woman first.
But he wasn’t at his home anymore. He was standing on a tall hill with the wind cutting into his skin. The smell of salt filled the air and water stretched out before him past a swamp. The water stretched to the horizon. He’d heard of such a thing but never seen the ocean in person. A strange song was carried on the breeze, voices that made no sense to him.
Then it was over. Backing up, Dobiemir grabbed the
fence to keep himself upright. The woman’s green eyes were wide with surprise. Yet as her surprise faded, she began to smile at him. That expression terrified him even more.
10
Little Comfort
Jenny’s hand kept twitching. Bran grinned but held back a laugh. It seemed that Jenny was having trouble being separated from her phone. He wondered whether Avani would deal with that or if it was something that Jenny would have to train out of herself. Lance, on the other hand, was sitting calmly on the grass of the lawn near the dark lines left over from Alex’s latest lightning attack. He didn’t seem to be struggling with the basics of meditation, and Bran nodded in approval.
It was a nice day and there were a lot of things that he should be doing, or at the least could be doing. Yet Bran was looking out the back window in the living room of their new house and watching Avani teach Lance and Jenny to meditate. Jenny made another abortive move for her phone.
“Anything interesting happening out there?” Aiden asked. His friend came walking up beside him, his shoes thumping softly against the floor. “Any light shows yet?”
“No,” Bran said. “Just meditating, and I don’t imagine we’ll see any light shows for a while.”
“I just hope this helps somehow,” Aiden groaned. “Right now, we’re just in a holding pattern. I know us getting the sword was good, great even, since it was what Arthur wanted from the start, but…” He shrugged in the corner of Aiden’s eyes. “Doesn’t seem like enough.”
“I wonder if we could boost the blood protection spell?” Bran said thoughtfully. “It feels like we should be able to make it do more.”
“Don’t forget that Alex was able to infuse the thing with instructions not to hurt peaceful Fae,” Aiden said. Leaning against the wall, he joined Bran in looking out the window. “So at least when it is cast the spell has some… malleableness.” Aiden shook his head and grimaced. “Not sure how to describe spells. Is that even a word?”
“Malleableness?” Bran repeated. “Not sure, it sounds right though. You could ask Alex.”
Aiden just shrugged, and they fell into silence. It was comfortable, and Bran kept watching Jenny’s hand twitch. Smiling, he crossed his arms over his chest and tapped lightly on his arm. Next to him, Aiden shifted and glanced his way.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Not thinking about anything,” Bran replied. He shrugged a little. “Maybe thinking about the blood spell, a bit. Wondering if it can be altered after the fact or what kind of magic it would take.” He paused and huffed. “And now that I’m trying to think about it rationally, I’m wondering about how much influence it has since it only has a little bit of blood.”
“Oh I’ve given up on the chemistry of that,” Aiden said. Raising an eyebrow, he looked pointedly at Bran. “I mean the human body only has like, 5 grams of iron in it at most, and it isn’t just hanging around as iron.”
“I know,” Bran agreed. “Iron is too reactive for that. I figure that the iron in red blood cells lets them carry highly concentrated magic. Plus, iron is part of myoglobin in the muscles, which could explain why we feel sore when we use a lot of magic. Even if the iron is in a compound form in our bodies, it is still helping to transmit the magic.”
“So, the iron moves magic like it does oxygen.” Aiden pressed his lips together but nodded. “It’s a solid theory at least.” Turning to look out the window at Avani, Jenny, and Lance again, he smiled a little. “I hope this works for them. I worry about them. With the Fae and Sídhe, it isn’t so bad since they have their daggers, but what if Arthur shows up or another human?”
“I think Lance would do better against a human,” Bran said. “He’s tackled Sídhe in the past. He’s brave and more… physical than either of us. Besides, I saw Avani use her magic. It was… slow compared to ours and didn’t last long. We can’t count on those three turning the tide of battle.”
Aiden hummed softly, not in agreement or disapproval. Bran held back a sigh and tried to think of something else to turn the conversation towards. Yet they hadn’t had the chance to see new movies or shows or read any new books lately. The realization made him frown, and his stomach tightened uncomfortably.
Then Aiden’s phone beeped, and his friend quickly pulled it from his pocket. “Sorry, time for me to head to the shop.”
“Are you helping out through the school year?” Bran asked.
“No, Mom and Dad… well, they don’t completely get it, but they know that I can’t always be around.”
“How are they taking it?” Bran asked. “Are they still doing okay?”
Aiden stopped, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense. “Not really, but they can’t change it.” He grimaced. “There’s a reason none of you have been invited back for a BBQ. They know it isn’t your fault, but… it’s not easy. I still think Alex had the right idea telling them the truth, but living with the truth is hard.”
Nodding, Bran watched Aiden head for the stairs. His shoulders were slumped now, and Bran regretted asking him. Sometimes, he worried that he was weaker than the others, that his desire to be able to go home and pretend there wasn’t danger meant that he couldn’t take it. Then again, as much as he tried to keep those aspects of his life separate, Arthur seemed determined to have them collide.
He had nightmares where his mother had been in the shop, or that there’d been other customers. If he hadn’t been alone, he might have been forced to use his magic and reveal them all to the world. In an age of cell phone cameras, secrets were hard to keep. He didn’t trust himself enough to do the memory tricks that Merlin and Morgana had used in the past. If his mother had been there, she would have seen the potential danger. She’d have to understand that magic wasn’t just… there, it had a purpose and strings attached that he’d never told her about. Worst yet were the dreams where she’d been hurt or killed.
Moving away from the window, Bran shook his head. A sudden chill spread over his skin and nausea took over. Rationally he knew that he should tell his mother, but he hadn’t. Logic and maybe even wisdom broke down when he thought about it. There was a folded-up flag that his mother still looked at almost every day. The dog tags he wore under his shirt served as a reminder of both his father and the danger of being a soldier. His mother deserved to know, but fear took over whenever he thought about telling her.
Footfalls on the stairs made him look over to watch Alex coming down from her room. She still seemed half asleep, but her gray eyes focused on him quickly. Smiling softly, she walked over and peered out the window. Bran couldn’t identify all of the emotions that washed over her face as she found Jenny and Lance working on magic.
“So, they’re really doing this,” Alex said softly. A soft exhale escaped her before she looked towards him. “Any luck so far?”
“No,” he answered. “Aiden and I were watching earlier. He had to go to the bookstore.”
“Okay.”
She just kept watching out the window, her lips tugging up into a smile when Jenny tried to reach for her phone again. It was nice to see her smile again, but Bran’s thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone enough for him to enjoy it. Shifting uneasily, Bran grimaced when Alex turned to look at him again.
“You okay, Bran?”
“Yeah… I just….” Looking up at the ceiling, Bran second-guessed himself before pressing on. “Look, I have a question, but you don’t have to answer.” He waited for Alex to nod even as her eyebrows went up curiously. “How did you decide to relocate your brothers?” Bran asked. Alex’s whole body stilled, and her eyes went wide. Bran wished he could take back the question. Still, he desperately wanted the answer. Pushing forward, he exhaled and asked, “Does it help? Knowing that they are safe and away from all this?”
“Yes,” Alex said carefully. She was weighing her words even though her eyes were still wide like a deer caught in headlights. Turning to look out the window, Alex’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I miss them. Desperately, sometimes. I think about calling th
em and wanting to check on them, and then I remember. But yes, it helps knowing that they are away from this. Knowing that Matt doesn’t remember that I exist and doesn’t have to worry about me while trying to take care of Eddy. He’s strong, but knowing that Mom and Dad were murdered and that their killer was still after me, trying to finish law school, and taking care of a grieving teenager… it was too much. It was causing him pain.”
Her eyes were sad, but there was steel in them. Wistfulness; wanting to know what might have been. He understood that but didn’t say it out loud. People saying they understood rarely helped, but listening might.
“I worry about my mother,” Bran said. “I’ve never told her the whole truth because after what happened with my Dad, I know she’d struggle with it. I don’t want her to worry, but now I don’t believe that she’ll be safe.” His mouth was dry, and his throat tightened. “I’m wondering if I should… you know.”