With nothing to stop her momentum, Nerissa stumbled and pitched forward onto her hands and knees. Her sword tumbled away and disappeared beneath the blanket of leaves covering the ground. She scrabbled to get herself into a position where she could lash out with her feet, but before she could do so, she felt the tip of her opponent’s sword press against the back of her neck.
“Enough!” Leal’s voice rang out loud and clear. “This match is finished. Good work, you two.”
Hearing those words sapped away what little remaining energy Nerissa had. She flopped onto her back, picked a shred of dead leaf off her tongue, and stared up at the canopy of branches with her limp arms spread wide. Jarold came over a minute later, his wooden practice sword in hand.
“That really was well done, Caeneus. Until the last bit, at least. Your skills improve with every practice,” he said, offering a hand to help her up.
Nerissa’s palm met his with a soft slap, and then she grimaced at the lance of pain that shot out from her upper arm as he pulled her to her feet. “Thank you for the encouragement. Still, it is abundantly clear that my skills are lacking.” She rolled up her sleeve to gingerly prod the patch of reddened skin. “I should have been more careful. If you’d been holding a real sword, this would be far worse than a bruise.”
Jarold gave her a hearty clap on the back. “Every bruise is a lesson learned.”
“Then this one’s lesson is that you are much faster than you look,” Nerissa replied with a weary smile.
Jarold straightened his shoulders and grinned broadly. “You’re not the first person to underestimate me.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Caeneus,” Leal said as he sifted through the leaves for her dropped sword. “This was the first time he didn’t hold back against you.”
Nerissa turned to Jarold, incredulous. “Really?”
He shrugged. “I could hardly tell you I intended to do so ahead of time.”
“Of course not,” Nerissa agreed dryly. She held up one hand and pinched her fingers together so that there was barely a gap visible between them. “Perhaps you could have given me a small hint?”
Jarold chuckled and clapped her on the back once more before heading toward the other side of camp where Desta had just returned with a bucket of fresh water.
Nerissa helped Leal put the equipment away, then took her turn washing up once Jarold was finished. She ran through the match in her head as she wiped the grime off her hands and face, making mental notes of skills that needed improvement. Jarold was right when he said that her sword techniques were continually improving, but they weren’t improving fast enough for her liking. It also didn’t help that she had already been tired and sore long before practice began. In the nine days since the incident in Warren, every moment of daylight had been spent traveling. The group was en route to Maze; however, the journey was longer than necessary because they had chosen to take a series of back roads that meandered through wooded and rural areas in order to minimize the risk of encountering the Senka.
While most of the group stayed close to the wagon, the disguised twins scouted ahead and ventured into each city they happened to pass, in search of family crests with triangles in the design. It was a haphazard way to search, and yet it was the only safe method available to them now. Fortunately, there had been no sign of the Senka so far. Unfortunately, there had likewise been no sign of the last book.
The twins had also met with one of the few Ohanzee operatives in the region in order to send the letter summoning Charis. The matched set of spirit crystals Charis had rescued from the rubble were absolutely essential to their mission. Without them, Nerissa and Raysel had little hope of figuring out how to suspend Casimer like the prophecy instructed. At this point, all Nerissa could do was hope the message reached her friend in time.
As much as Nerissa worried about putting Charis in danger by involving her in their mission, there was one time and place that would provide the ideal cover for their rendezvous—the Festival of Flames in the city of Maze. During the five day celebration, the city would be inundated with visitors from all over Marise. Although the Senka were sure to be among the crowd, the influx of merchants, craftsmen, and travelers would provide sufficient camouflage for their group to enter the city unnoticed.
Still, given Maze’s close proximity to the capital, Nerissa couldn’t help but feel like they were about to walk into a lion’s den. She let out a long, measured breath and gave the wash cloth a vigorous twist, as if she could wring out her negative thoughts along with the water.
Raysel’s voice rang out from behind her. “Now, now. What did that cloth ever do to you?” He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting one hand over her shoulder. A glass jar rested in his palm. “I assume you’ll be needing this.”
Choosing to allow his good mood to wash over her, Nerissa took the jar and stroked its side with exaggerated affection. “Ah, yes. We meet again, old friend.”
“I’m not sure you two have known each other long enough to be considered ‘old friends,’ ” Raysel teased.
“That’s where you are mistaken. Friendship is about the quality of time spent together, not the quantity. This little jar has been my reliable and steadfast companion for the last six months.”
“Hmmm. And what of the one who brings you the jar and dutifully applies its contents?”
Nerissa arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean the person who is most frequently responsible for making me need it in the first place?”
Raysel’s smile didn’t slip, but the slight narrowing of his eyes told Nerissa her jest had hit close to home. She laid her free hand across his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “That person’s friendship is a treasure far too great to be contained in a jar.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he murmured, looking away awkwardly. Nerissa chuckled, mistaking his discomfort for shyness at her sudden sincerity. It was too dark for her to see the hint of pink that colored the tips of his ears.
Raysel cleared his throat and pointed at her leg. “I do wonder if you’ll still feel that way after I’m done patching you up.”
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like Ildiko’s salve stings,” Nerissa joked. Then she followed his line of sight and saw a tear in the fabric of her pants above her right knee. A rivulet of half-dried blood was visible through the rip. “Oh no. Not the antiseptic.”
“I’m afraid so.” Raysel’s tone was grave, but his lips twisted into a sideways smirk that belied his false empathy. He gestured toward the short set of stairs that led to the back door of the wagon. “Sit,” he commanded before climbing inside to fetch the medical kit.
Nerissa grudgingly obeyed and rolled up the leg of her pants. “Look. It’s just a small cut. I didn’t even notice it,” she protested, knowing full well that none of those reasons would affect the outcome.
“Cuts need to be cared for properly regardless of how large or small they are. Did you hear me complaining when I had to have this cleaned?” He lifted his sleeve to show the pink patch of skin where he had been injured during their first confrontation with the Senka.
“As a matter of fact, I do seem to recall hearing quite a few colorful utterances from you at the time.”
Raysel’s mouth snapped shut momentarily, but he rapidly formulated a rebuttal. “Those weren’t because of the disinfectant—they were in response to Cole’s needlework.” He dipped a fresh strip of gauze into the water, wrung out the excess, and gently dabbed it over the cut. “Besides, you’re straying off topic. The point I was making is that this is a comparatively tiny scratch.” He withdrew the bottle of alcohol from the medical kit and pulled out the cork.
As the distinct aroma of the antiseptic wafted over to her, Nerissa scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes in anticipation. “Be done with it already.”
“I am.”
She looked down, and Raysel was already putting the disinfectant away.
“I knew that,” Nerissa fibbed, lifting her chin indignantly.
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nbsp; Raysel opened the jar of salve and gently spread a generous coating of the soothing cream across her upper arm. “Liar,” he said with a laugh. “You and Rian are exactly the same. You both endure serious injuries in stoic silence, yet you whine about the tiny ones.”
“Now I know you’re exaggerating,” she replied, adding her laughter to his.
**************************************
A short time later, Nerissa sat beside Raysel, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm her fingers while the rest of the group joined them in front of the campfire. Or at least, the group was gathering around where the campfire should be.
Desta dropped a handful of diced potatoes into the cookpot already straddling the wood pile. “We’ll never eat dinner at this rate,” she said, directing a pointed look at Cole.
Cole struck the piece of flint with extra vigor. “I’d like to see how successful you would be at lighting damp wood,” he groused.
A spray of sparks showered down onto the kindling, igniting a faint glow on one of the pieces. His cheeks puffed out over and over again as he gently encouraged the flame to spread, but in spite of Cole’s tender efforts, it flickered out of existence, leaving a charred patch of wood behind.
“Apparently you don’t have enough hot air to finish the job,” Rian called out from the other side of the circle where he sat cleaning Dragon’s Bane.
“There’s plenty of jerky for you,” Cole murmured sullenly.
“You seem to have plenty of hot air to spare, Rian,” Eloc chimed in, coming to his brother’s defense. “Perhaps you’d have better luck if you gave it a try.”
Raysel leaned over and whispered in Nerissa’s ear. “Can I borrow your pendant?” There was a mischievous undertone in his voice.
Though she was curious about his intentions, Nerissa said nothing as she lifted the cord over her head and handed the pendant to him. The moment the crystal touched Raysel’s palm, flames roared up from the pile of wood below the cookpot.
Cole yelped and stumbled backward, landing on his bottom with an audible thump. He frantically patted his face, taking special care to run his fingers over the full length of his brows. “Raysel! You could have singed my eyebrows right off!”
“You’re fine,” Rian called out between chortles. “Besides, it’s not like you—of all people—couldn’t draw them back on with something from your endless supply of makeup.”
Eloc held up the carrot he was peeling and pointed it at Rian. “We wouldn’t draw them on! That wouldn’t look natural at all. We have false eyebrows made from real hair for that.”
“Thank you, but that’s not the point, brother,” Cole muttered.
Nerissa jabbed Raysel in the side hard enough to force him to break off the sly grins he and Rian were sharing. “You could have given him some warning,” she chided.
“The fire did go up a bit faster than I intended,” Raysel admitted, having the grace to look slightly abashed. “Are you feeling better?”
“What do you mean? I told you the cut didn’t really hurt in the first place.”
Raysel’s head tilted to the side. “I wasn’t asking about your cut. You looked like you had a lot on your mind after practice finished.”
“Oh,” Nerissa said, drawing in a breath. She had tried to hide her somber mood from him earlier, but it seemed that he had noticed anyway. “I do feel better, actually.”
Raysel said nothing, his green eyes probing hers, his intentional silence compelling her to continue speaking.
“I wish I’d known we would need those crystals the last time I saw Charis,” Nerissa said. “Then we would have had them to practice with from the outset and there wouldn’t have been a need to ask her to come to Maze.”
“There was no way we could have known their importance back then,” he argued. “Even without the stones from Charis, we have been making progress in understanding how to use our talent.” He held up the fire-fire pendant, letting it swing on its leather cord in front of him as an example. “Now that we know what we’re doing, it takes little more than a thought to produce a flame using this. Still, we do have a lot to learn. Are there other things your pendant can do beyond starting fires? And what about my crystal? We’ve never tried using it.”
Nerissa perked up as she considered his questions. “You’re right. We haven’t used your pendant before. I wonder what a phantom crystal can do.”
“Since this is a spirit crystal with an earth phantom inside, I’m curious to find out if it behaves more like a spirit crystal or an earth one.” He took off the pendant and held it out for Nerissa to take. “You try it first.”
“I can’t do that,” Nerissa said, pushing it back toward him. “It’s your stone, so you should be the first to try it.”
“I insist. Besides, I owe you one for using the antiseptic on you earlier,” he said with a wink.
Laughing, Nerissa snatched the stone. “You do owe me! As a matter of fact, now you owe me two.”
“Two?” he squawked.
“Yes, two,” Nerissa said firmly. “One for actually using the antiseptic, and a second for reminding me of it.”
“Well, that’s what I get for being generous,” he jokingly grumbled, though Nerissa didn’t hear him. She was already fixated on the crystal.
An earth stone had so many potential uses. Could it be used to manipulate soil? To help plants grow? The properties that might be drawn from the spirit portion of the stone were equally intriguing. Did the element bestow its own unique characteristics? Or did it serve to enhance the earth properties?
She relaxed her shoulders and tried to clear her mind of all stray thoughts, concentrating on the crystal in her hand. Just then, Eloc emerged from the wagon, dancing a jig and wearing false eyebrows that were so bushy it gave the impression a pair of caterpillars had taken up residence on his forehead. At the sight of him, Cole exploded in gales of laughter, and even Jarold and Leal couldn’t stifle their snickers.
Try as she might, Nerissa couldn’t block Eloc’s capering from permeating into her thoughts. The next thing she knew, a second bushy-browed Eloc appeared beside the original. Though the trees in the background were faintly visible through the copy, it mimicked Eloc’s every movement perfectly—right down to the goofy way he was wiggling his eyebrows.
Nerissa briefly wondered if she was the only one who could see the copy, and then Cole’s guffaws suddenly stopped.
“Brother! We’ve got another brother!” he exclaimed, pointing. No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the phantom Eloc disappeared.
“Did you do that?” Raysel asked.
“I-I did, albeit unintentionally,” Nerissa stammered. She blushed at the realization that everyone in the group was staring at her. “I had just started to focus on the crystal when Eloc distracted me. The next thing I knew…well, you saw what happened.”
“So the phantom crystal can make phantoms appear. I wouldn’t have guessed it, but its function does seem ironically obvious in retrospect.” Raysel motioned for her to give him the crystal, and as soon as she handed it over, his brow wrinkled in concentration.
On the other side of the fire, the twins had begun to mourn their lost brother. Eloc wrapped an arm around Cole’s shoulders and dabbed at the corner of one eye. “Alas, Eloc the second, though our time together was short, we will never forget you.”
“I never knew what I was missing until he was gone,” Cole wailed melodramatically.
Desta stirred the contents of the cook pot while she watched them, sighing at their antics. Then, her gaze shifted slightly and she pointed with her spoon. “I think you are bemoaning the loss of your doppelganger a bit too soon.”
Sure enough, “Eloc the second” was back, this time looking as solid as his “brothers.” Cole reached out to put his arm around his new-found sibling, and gawped in surprise as the phantom winked out of existence.
Raysel turned to Nerissa with a triumphant grin. “It looks like we’ve got a new skill to master.”
&
nbsp; Nerissa grinned back. “It seems we do.”
As Raysel continued experimenting with the crystal, Nerissa leaned back on her elbows to watch her lively group of friends. Tomorrow, they would venture into Maze for the first time. She didn’t know what awaited them there, but she couldn’t imagine a better group of people to have by her side.
Chapter 3
Scratch, Scratch
Charis
Charis pried her bleary gaze away from the open book in her lap and glanced out the window, blinking repeatedly until her eyes adjusted their focus. On the other side of the glass, a steady stream of people bustled past. No doubt, most of them were engrossed with preparations for the Festival of Flames. One woman, who strained to walk under the weight of the grocery basket propped on her hip, watched helplessly when an apple rocked loose and dropped to the sidewalk. She frowned at the loss but marched onward without hesitation, as if she were in far too great a hurry to pause and pick it up.
And perhaps she was. Like most of the passersby, she wore a uniform, which marked her as a servant of one of the numerous merchants with households in Amon’s neighborhood. While the sidewalks were filled with servants, porters, and messengers going about their tasks, the streets were congested with hackneys and coaches carrying the business owners and their families. Apparently, they traveled exclusively by carriage, lest they be seen walking amongst those they employed. It was a completely foreign concept to Charis. In Niamh, carriages were almost exclusively used for long distance travel or for the transport of goods, and most everyone—nobles included—walked.
She watched the dropped fruit skitter across the brick pavers, bouncing off polished loafers and dainty boots alike, before coming to a stop in the gutter, ruined. What a waste, she thought. Even if there were no need to conserve food, a dropped apple was still useable. Cutting away the bruise from the initial impact would have been a simple matter, but there was no salvaging it now that it had been kicked around like a child’s ball.
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