by Lucia Ashta
“I promise,” she said, but her voice belied her words. She was filled with hope.
She sprang to her feet and wiped her face of any remnants of tears. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard in a few minutes. Please don’t tell our parents where we’re going.”
“They might be able to help,” Albacus protested. “They’re superior sorcerers to us.”
“But they’ll never understand. If they find out, they’ll forbid you from going to help him.”
Mordecai said, “We won’t tell them. We’ll meet you downstairs. But where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I just need to get something first.”
“Like what?”
“Just something for Damien. Don’t worry, I’ll see you downstairs. And please, hurry.”
And then she was off, swishing through the door like a lithe ballerina in full skirts.
Albacus and Mordecai stared at the empty doorway for a few beats before Albacus said, “Why’d you tell her it was all right not to say anything to our parents?”
“Because there’s probably nothing they could do to help him. If his sister said he was dead, I’m sure he is. The poor are quite experienced in recognizing death. And what were you thinking suggesting that we go try to help him? Why would you ever say something like that? You saw what it did to her. She believes he might still be alive now.”
“I couldn’t stand to see her that way. I wanted to say—do—something to make her feel better.”
“Well this definitely wasn’t it, Albacus. Surely you could’ve thought of something better than sending your brother to heal the dead.”
“I didn’t.” Albacus’ pronouncement sounded hollow and regretful. “Maybe this will help her deal with his death. If she sees him dead, perhaps she’ll realize she has to let him go.”
“I doubt that. She’ll just cry harder seeing him dead. You should’ve left her with whatever image she had of him in her mind. Alive.”
“Maybe. But it’s done now.” Albacus rose to his knees, prepared to stand. “At least now we know we don’t have to worry about her.”
“What do you mean? We have much to worry about. She was already falling apart, and now you’ve sent us to witness his corpse. She’s going to lose it, I’m telling you.”
Albacus stood. “If that’s the case, then I indeed will’ve made a grave mistake, but that’s not what I meant. Your runes foretold a death related to Oliana. At least now we know that she’s safe. It’s the boy’s death they foretold, not hers.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am. The runes aren’t the exact tool you make them out to be. We’re in the clear.” Albacus offered Mordecai a hand up, but he didn’t even notice it before he was already standing. “What is it now? Why do you look like Waggy died all over again?”
“Because the runes were very clear.”
“Are the runes always right?”
Mordecai didn’t answer.
“Are they?”
“No, not every time, but—”
“That’s all we need to know. Come on, let’s go get this over with. The sooner Oliana realizes the boy she thinks she loves is dead, the sooner we can get back to normal.”
But there was nothing normal about Irele Castle, or any of its inhabitants.
Mordecai followed Albacus out the door and pulled it shut behind him. He felt as if he might never walk through that door again, and even the swooping, attacking monkeys didn’t shake the feeling.
Chapter 2
“Let’s go. Quickly,” Oliana said, whisking past her brothers, who waited in the courtyard, her cape trailing behind her.
Albacus spun to follow her as she whizzed past. “We’ve been waiting for you. What took you so long?”
“It took me longer than I expected to find what I needed. Now come on.” She was already halfway across the courtyard, heading toward the stables.
“What were you looking for?” Mordecai asked, feeling a pressing need to know. He’d long ago learned not to question his instincts. Like the runes, his intuition was an imprecise art, but one which he ignored at his peril.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does.”
Oliana halted long enough to turn and face Mordecai. “If we continue to stand out here in the courtyard talking, our parents are bound to notice. Or one of the servants will tell them, or something will keep us from going to Damien, and this is too important to me.”
Still, Mordecai hesitated.
“Please Mordecai.” She turned her sky blue eyes to the packed dirt in front of her and toed at it with a slipper not meant for horseback riding. “I love him.”
Even though an uncomfortable sensation nagged at Mordecai, he’d never been able to say no to his sister. “Fine. But you’re telling me on the way.”
“All right,” she said, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. She resumed her march toward the stables, and Mordecai and Albacus were forced to keep up.
By the time Albacus was using his magic to open the giant, heavy wooden gate, it was all Mordecai could think about. And when Oliana positioned her horse in the lead, he moved to follow right behind her, leaving Albacus to close the gate before their parents would notice.
But Oliana urged her horse into a canter before he reached her.
“Oliana,” he yelled as loudly as he dared this close to the castle. “You’re going too fast, and in a side saddle! It’s not safe!” The mountain was steep enough that their horses struggled with the incline—and these horses were used to it.
“What’s she doing?” Albacus pulled next to him on the narrow path. “She’s going to hurt herself.”
“I don’t think she cares anymore,” Mordecai said and nudged his horse into a trot. It wasn’t fast enough to catch up with her, but it was as fast as he dared and far faster than the usual cautious approach down the vertical mountainside. He was risking the well-being of his horse, and he realized it. If his horse lost his footing, he’d get hurt and badly. But they couldn’t allow Oliana out of their sight, and at this rate, she’d be halfway to the village before they managed to descend.
Mordecai signaled to his horse to speed up, and when he rounded the switchbacks, Albacus was behind him, his face tense and focused on the path ahead of him. But even so, by the time they reached level ground, all that was left of their sister was a trail of dust and a nagging sensation that planted a seed of panic deep in Mordecai’s chest.
“Our parents are going to make us pay for agreeing to this,” Albacus said to Mordecai, who rode next to him. They’d arrived at the edge of the village, and that’s where they lost Oliana’s trail. It’d been easy to follow her into town because there was only one direct way to get there, but now small streets and alleys diverted from the main road in a dizzying, haphazard pattern.
“It was your idea.” Mordecai would’ve ordinarily teased him about the prodigal son erring in the eyes of their parents, but he was far too worried for teasing. The houses were built close together, and the smells and sounds of an over-crowded and bustling village rankled his nerves. He scanned the dark insides of homes and shops. “Where is she? Why would she leave us behind? I thought she wanted me to help this boy.”
“She does. We’ll find her. She probably forgot we were behind her. She’s upset, but she’ll come to herself, and then she’ll come find us.”
“I’m not waiting for her to come find us. Something’s wrong.” Mordecai stopped his horse. “I beg your pardon, madam, but might you direct us to the smithy?”
The woman appeared startled at first and nearly dropped the basket she was carrying. It wasn’t often that the mysterious sons of the manor house at the top of the mountain came into town. Servants did all the bartering and purchasing for the family. The woman adjusted her basket on her hip and tucked stray hairs into her bonnet. “The smithy’s at the bottom o’ the hill, to yar right.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Mordecai said and immediately set off in that direction, missing th
e woman’s final flustered look.
Albacus rode next to his brother. “I’ll never understand why people want to live in their own filth like this.”
“I don’t think they want to.”
“If they don’t want to, then why would they? There are much better ways to manage a town.”
“Certainly there are, but these people obviously don’t have the skills to do better than this.”
“Well they should give it some attention before another plague of disease infects the countryside and they’re left wondering why, when the signs are all around them.”
“Albacus, these people struggle for their survival every single day, not just when infection spreads.”
“Then perhaps I’ll come to town and help them.”
Mordecai gave his brother a sideways look. “You? Come to town? To help? You do realize that means you’ll have to talk to these people and otherwise interact with them, right?”
Albacus bristled. “Of course I do. What? You don’t think I can?”
“I don’t think you will, it’s different. You’re happiest when you don’t have to leave the castle. You always say people look at you strangely when you travel.”
“It’s true, they do.”
“I know, they do the same to me.” Mordecai smiled, and the smile felt wrong. “What are we doing?” He moved his horse into a trot, but wouldn’t go faster than that with so many people milling in the streets. “We have to get to Oliana.”
Albacus matched his pace and strained to talk over the sound of the horses and the village. “Why are you so worried? She’ll be okay, she’s just mourning.”
“I fear it’s worse than that. Remember the runes.”
“Yes, but the runes spoke of the boy, not her.”
“It’s not just the runes, brother, it’s what I feel too. There’s something wrong, I’m telling you.” Mordecai turned to look at Albacus, trusting his horse to evade any pedestrian. “You need to take me seriously right now. The runes foretold her death, not his.”
And when Mordecai said those words, they rang true through every part of his being. It must’ve shown in his eyes, because it was Albacus who forced his horse into a canter and charged down the hill, amid the shouts of complaint of those they passed.
Mordecai followed closely, all the while wondering if the sinking sensation he had was fear of one possible version of the future, or for that which would come to pass, no matter what they did.
Chapter 3
Oliana ran straight into Mordecai as she emerged from the forge like a shooting star. He was so startled by the impact that he didn’t reach for her until it was too late. Her cloak slipped between his fingers, the folds of her silk skirts a phantom he couldn’t hold onto.
She was on the move again, a whirlwind of anguished grief and frenzied activity. She slid a slipper into the stirrup just as Albacus fully dismounted from his horse.
“Wait. Oliana,” he said. “Where are you going?”
She was already in the saddle, her fingers itching to take control of the reins.
Mordecai said, “We’ve been chasing you since we left. I thought you wanted me to help Damien.”
“I fear it’s truly too late.” Her face dissolved into a stream of defeated tears. The wails and heaving sobs were absent. In their place was a despondency that terrified Mordecai.
“Let me see him,” Mordecai said, his desperation mounting without logical reason. If the boy was dead, then there was no urgency. But the sense of urgency hurried his heartbeat into an unnatural pace.
“He’s not here,” she said. “They took his body to the riverside, to the inlet where he liked to fish. His father wanted to take him there one last time before they bury him. Damien took me there once, did you know that? He shared his special spot with me, it’s where he said the fish bite best.” But Oliana was barely speaking to them anymore. Her gaze was distant. It looked into the past, not at them.
Oliana had a life separate from the one she shared with her family, and that one fact hit Mordecai hard, pummeling his already frantic chest in its center. Their parents had never taken them fishing, yet his sister had experienced it. She’d lived and loved outside of the castle, beyond the world Albacus and he knew.
“He shared everything special with me,” she continued. “He said he’d never met anyone like me before. That I was special, magical.” She smiled with tender sadness. “Only he didn’t actually realize I’m a witch capable of real magic. But maybe somehow he knew, or he associated me with the beautiful side of magic, that which gives life to possibilities where there are none otherwise.”
Mordecai started walking toward her, slowly, as if she were a wild horse he was afraid to spook. When she finally looked at him, and he realized she was back to the present, he stilled and put his hands up, just as he would with a horse. “Oliana, let us help you. Let’s go to the riverside then, to see Damien. Let me make sure there’s nothing I can do for him.” Before you do something crazy, he almost added, and the beating of his heart became erratic at the fear he suppressed.
“Come then, but I fear it’s already too late.”
As she flicked the reins and left them behind in a cloud of dust, Mordecai whispered to Albacus, “Too late for him—or for her?”
Albacus’ eyes widened in alarm. He began to feel what Mordecai did. He pulled himself back into the saddle and set off after their little sister—the one who was impetuous and head strong and far more rebellious and passionate than either one of them had ever dreamt of being.
Mordecai was half a step behind him.
They didn’t restrain their horses on the way to the inlet. The road was wide and level, but still with the occasional loose rock that posed a danger to their horses. But the brothers were past worrying about the horses. The animals would manage. Mordecai and Albacus were consumed with the awareness that seconds mattered.
They led their horses in a full-on gallop, pushing the animals hard.
And still they didn’t catch up with Oliana, who rode as if she were trying to outrun death itself. But she rode toward it, and the plume of dust she kicked up defied the assertion that women couldn’t ride fast. Oliana seemed to outrun the wind itself—and in a side saddle and silk skirts and slippers.
It was that determination that frightened her brothers the most.
“She doesn’t quit until she gets what she wants,” Mordecai yelled out. Even so, his voice was faint and broken amid the pounding of horse hooves.
“I know,” Albacus ground out, nudging his horse’s sides. But the animal was going as fast as he could.
“She’s riding too fast! It’s as if—” Mordecai stopped mid-sentence, allowing the jarring motions of his horse’s gait to snap the puzzle pieces into place. “She’s using magic!”
“Of course she is,” Albacus said, mostly to himself, feeling stupid for not having realized it. He’d never been skilled at thinking on the move—it was one of the reasons his parents hadn’t advanced him from apprentice to master yet—and they’d been on the move since Oliana announced her broken heart.
“She must be using spells to manipulate the air element, or the earth perhaps. Because she can’t do anything to speed up her mare. She hasn’t learned any spells to affect other living creatures yet, she was just complaining to mother about it the other day. She must be doing magic around the air element to push her horse to go faster. That makes more sense than manipulating the earth to propel her forward.” It was impractical to hold a conversation traveling at these speeds, but Mordecai thought best when he talked things through, and he kept sensing he was missing something important. Like there was something coalescing out of nothing into something tangible—and fearsome.
“Agreed,” Albacus shouted back. “There’s no way that mare of hers can go this fast without magic.”
The solution—at least for this—was obvious. After all, they were sorcerers, and even though they each excelled in different areas, they were already some of the better wi
zards of their age. The magical world was relatively small when compared to the rest of the population that relegated magic to the realm of fairy tales, and news of great talents traveled quickly. They were some of the few of their generation, but it’s what was expected of their legendary parents.
Mordecai and Albacus got to casting spells. Often the brothers would use different spells to accomplish the same purpose, taking pride in embellishing the basic enchantments and lending them an extraordinary elegance. But now their focus was identical. They’d do whatever would yield predictable results the fastest.
Albacus muttered the spell first, but Mordecai was only a couple of seconds behind him, barreling down the road, lips moving steadily.
Breath of life,
air of lungs,
ye breathe the now
and what might cometh.
Harness your power,
put it behind
this beast of a horse,
flesh and bone,
and make him flyeth.
Propel him forward
with the strength of wind,
with the grace of air,
and this wizard’s magic.
Breathe,
move,
fly,
I thank ye for it.
The words of this spell were different than ever before, but its essence—respect for the element and its power—was identical. The element of air responded immediately, and the brothers’ horses rose in the air until they levitated several inches from the ground.
At first, the horses struggled against the alarming sensation, and they pumped their legs all the more, intent on outrunning whatever was cutting them off from their lifelong foundation of support. But eventually, they stopped struggling and brought their limbs to stillness, snorting hot air and tossing their heads in discontent. Then they ceased all struggle entirely, their chests heaving as they began to catch their breath.
Their travel was punctuated by the heavy breathing of horse and man while they advanced more rapidly than they had before.
In moments, they spotted their sister, cresting the edge of the horizon, where the land sloped downward into the river. A minute later, they saw signs of what must be Damien’s family.