Dixon

by Sarah J. Stone

  “The one you swore I would protect,” Nathaniel practically screamed at him. “And she may get Eliza killed if we keep having to cater to her.”

  “No!” Desmond dropped Sienna's hand, grabbing Nathaniel by the shoulders. “You will not speak that way ever again! Do you hear me? It is time to grow up, Nathaniel. It is time to realize that your love for Eliza must come last in this world. Don't you think I knew what this could be like? How it could tear at your heart? You are a witch; you have chosen a life for yourself. So, unless you are choosing differently and walking away now, you will serve the magic first, your Tiro second, and the universe third. And if Eliza is in there, fine. But she is not your priority. Is that much clear?”

  “Desmond, you don't even know…” Nathaniel started, and Desmond saw tears in his eyes. He quickly checked to make sure that he wasn't hurting him, but the only pain his former Tiro held was emotional.

  “I don't know?” Desmond asked. “Really? Is that what you think?”

  Nathaniel kept his mouth closed, but his chest heaved, and Desmond could see his face turn an odd shade of pale. He let go of Nathaniel long enough to let him bend over, and he stepped back.

  The younger witch emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground with a splash. Desmond was not impressed to hear that it was mostly liquid, but he knew scolding him further would not make a difference at this point. He took another step back, turning to Sienna.

  To his surprise, she wasn't upset. She was digging in her rucksack, looking frantically for something.

  At last, she came up with a water bottle and hopped out of the ship. She approached Nathaniel as he stopped heaving, and her thin arm held out the cool, crisp water.

  No one said anything for a long moment. Desmond watched with curiosity as the child waited patiently.

  Finally, Nathaniel took the water bottle, unscrewing it and taking a long drink.

  “Slowly,” Sienna said softly. “Otherwise…”

  Nathaniel looked down to her, taking a deep, shaky breath.

  “I suppose throwing up is an area you're an expert in,” he said. “I should listen to you.”

  Sienna turned back to Desmond for translation who shook his head with a smile.

  “You don't need to know that,” he said.

  She took a step forward, avoiding the puddle Nathaniel had left and touching his shoulder gently.

  ‘You are ill?’

  ‘Only in my head,’ he responded, and she wrapped herself around his strong arm. Nathaniel looked up to Desmond who shrugged.

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” he said, and Nathaniel sighed.

  “You should drive.”

  “You think?” Desmond said as he reached over for the keys that had been dropped. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “A wicked hangover by dawn, I imagine, but that's it.”

  “Good luck translating that for Sienna,” Desmond answered, and Nathaniel straightened up.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let's sit in the back.”

  “Input the coordinates,” Desmond said as they got back into the ship. There was still tension in the air, but it was rapidly disappearing. Desmond had rarely yelled at Nathaniel, and when he did, Nathaniel got the point right away. Desmond was not one to raise his voice unless there was a matter that required attention right away, which this one certainly did. “I can take us there.”

  “Here,” Nathaniel started to move forward, and then stopped. “On second thought, Sienna, you should learn.”

  It took a few moments more, but Sienna got them in, and Desmond soon gunned the engine, taking them in the right direction.

  It was silent on the ship within a few minutes, and he glanced back to see both of them slumped against each other, their eyes closed. That was the advantage to not driving, he thought as he steered.

  It had been a very long time since he had been behind the wheel of a ship for any length of time. He remembered it quite easily. But, he thought, it must have been ten years since he had driven on a quest. Nathaniel had been a protégé at piloting as he was at most things, and had taken over driving at fifteen.

  The same age he met Eliza, Desmond noted. He wondered if the two events had anything to do with each other. After a moment of reflection, though, he realized it was in his best interest to not know what Nathaniel was doing when he said he was running a quick errand.

  How had it been ten years? He glanced in the mirror to see his own face looking back at him. There was grey in his hair, and his eyes had lines around them. They looked tired, weary of the world. If there was one benefit to Mariah being blind, it was that she didn't have to see him age.

  Would she still find him as attractive now as when she last saw him? It didn't matter to him what she looked like; he was in love with her soul. She always looked lovely, in his eyes. But would she reach for his hand less if she saw that he was no longer the handsome witch in his prime?

  He smiled, shaking his head. It didn't matter. She loved him, and he knew that. Speculation was not going to solve anything.

  He got to the shipyard in record time, realizing sheepishly that he had been speeding. He parked, and the silence of the engine brought the passengers out of their sleep.

  “That was fast,” Nathaniel said, as Desmond got out, pulling the door open. He gave Nathaniel's arm a little yank, helping him up, and Nathaniel gave him a weary grin. “Thanks.”

  Desmond nodded, helping Sienna out as well.

  “Are you all right, little one?” he asked as she spun around. Sienna nodded, but her head was cocked as she felt out her surroundings Magic danced on her fingers, and Desmond caught it quickly, snapping her on the wrist. “Don't waste it. You'll need it soon enough.”

  “But…” She put her hand on the tarmac. The cement was still cool in dawn light, and it was dark, as if it were freshly laid. “Life.”

  Desmond's brow furrowed.

  “That's tarmac,” he said. “If anything is living under there, it's minimal. Organisms, bugs, nothing more.”

  “No,” she said. Her magic was clear; it was reacting like when there was an apple. However, it was going into the ground. “Life.”

  “What's going on?” Nathaniel asked, confused, as he came back to them. He had moved a few steps ahead, but quickly noticed they had not followed.

  “Eliza,” Sienna said, and his head snapped to her.

  “What?”

  “Eliza,” Sienna remained kneeling on the ground. “Eliza. Life.”

  Chapter 16

  Nathaniel put his hand to the ground, his face baffled. If she was doing what she claimed to be doing, it would have displayed an amazing amount of strength. Of course, witches could recognize the signature of other life forms. But for them to be walking on a tarmac and Sienna to just pick up on it was something that displayed a high amount of strength. Which, he reminded himself, she did have. That was what was killing her.

  “Nathaniel?” Desmond asked, pausing. Nathaniel gritted his teeth as he tried to think. This was nearly impossible.

  “I don't know,” he said at last. “I don't know.”

  Desmond crouched down, touching his shoulder.

  “Try to focus,” he said. “Block out everything else, and just focus on the ground below. What do you feel?”

  Nathaniel took a deep breath, fighting through not only the hangover that was threatening to destroy him, but also the fact that the tarmac was at least a foot of solid concrete. He closed his eyes and tried to block out everything else around him.

  “Maybe,” he said. “I'm quite sure there is a life force down there, but whether or not it's Eliza's…there might be some similarities.”

  “Yes,” Sienna picked up on that word. “Similar.”

  “What's down there?” Nathaniel got up, grabbing an airport employee with force. The man looked startled to have his elbow grabbed and shook away.

  “Sir.”

  “What's down there?!” Nathaniel pointed to the
ground. Luckily, Sienna was calmer than he was, and she stepped in. She was adorable when she wanted to be and had a conversation with the guard, emulating a curious child.

  “Still regret the choice?” Desmond asked Nathaniel, keeping his voice low.

  “Her translation is very useful,” Nathaniel admitted. “As is her attitude”

  “Ah, a Tiro who may be useful beyond being a witch?” Desmond teased him, and Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

  “You made your point.”

  “I'm not trying to make any point,” Desmond replied. “I'm simply speaking words.”

  “Oh, that's what you're doing,” Nathaniel answered. “You aren't making underlying points about the fact that I've been making stupid choices since you proposed taking her on.”

  “We all make bad choices,” Desmond said. “All we can do is make better ones in the future.”

  “Hmm,” Nathaniel answered as Sienna returned to them. “Well, what did he say?”

  “There are…holes,” she said, and reached out for Nathaniel. ‘Old Tunnels.’

  “No longer in use?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “So, it's possible that someone is hiding something,” he said. “The thing is, the more I feel it, the more I'm not sure it's Eliza. It does feel similar enough to investigate, but something is different.”

  “Look,” Desmond pointing off the platform. On the grassy field were several hills. They were small, but he could tell they were man-made. “Sienna, did he say whether the tunnels were still in use?”

  ‘Old,’ she communicated.

  “Old,” he said, and she repeated the word. Desmond nodded and headed over. Nathaniel noted the teaching style, noting his Maestro's patience despite the urgency of the situation. He was starting to see that there was always time to teach the Tiros. Desmond had done the same to him, and half the time, he hadn't even noticed he was being taught.

  No one seemed to pay any attention to them as they moved through the hills. This part of the airfield was abandoned, and the grass was overgrown. Whatever the tunnels had been used for, they were long since forgotten about.

  “There used to be an entrance here.” Nathaniel found one that had been cemented over. He could trace the crack in the door with his hands, although it looked old. “There must be more.”

  “Split up,” Desmond ordered, pointing in different directions. “Shout out if you find–”

  “Maestro!”

  Sienna's strength in magic became clear when she found the open door before either of them. She had simply sent out a ping that was stronger than either of them. She leaned against the half open doorway as they came over, and Desmond's brow furrowed.

  “Are you all right, little one?”

  She nodded, putting her hands on her knees as the color drained from her face.

  “Oops,” Desmond said as she stumbled forward. He caught her, feeling her heart beat rapidly against him. “Hold on a minute. Breathe.”

  He expected protest from Nathaniel and was ready to defer to him. But Nathaniel crouched down, waiting patiently. He even looked concerned, reaching up to her neck to check her pulse.

  “Just breathe, Sienna,” Desmond said. She twisted in a way he recognized from raising many children, and he got out of the way just in time for her to lean over and throw up. “Or not.”

  “Why is she doing that?” Nathaniel asked, putting his hand on her small back. “Is it that we are amongst nature? Could her system be that reactive?”

  “I don't know,” Desmond admitted. “There has to be a pattern, but we haven't seen it. It wouldn't take a great amount of magic to ping like she just did, even if she's better at it than we are.”

  Nathaniel gave a brief smile, but he was clearly thinking about the pattern between her illness and the rest of the world. What was happening, and how could they make it better? She had such a bright future ahead of her, if they could just figure out how to get her there.

  Eventually, Sienna recovered, and the color returned to her cheeks. She straightened up and indicated that they should continue.

  Inside, the tunnel was pitch black. Desmond whisked his hands to create a ball of light, ready to extinguish it at any moment. From the light, they could see that the tunnel ahead was full of twists and turns.

  There was old, rusted equipment piled everywhere, and old lights on the wall. He looked around as they walked slowly, careful of their footing. No one said a word, listening for sounds as they walked in a straight line.

  Nathaniel stopped them suddenly, bending down to the ground. For one moment, Desmond was worried he was going to throw up again. It certainly had been a day of expelling bodily fluids, which, he thought with a sigh, was not something they warned you about when taking on a Tiro.

  But it was a fresh footprint that Nathaniel had found. The edges around it were still wet with recent mud, and there was a trail of them leading off to the left path of the tunnel.

  ‘Two,’ Sienna flashed, finding a second set of footprints. Desmond noted that the set was slightly smaller.

  “Three,” Nathaniel whispered, as he realized that some of the footprints were different. There were three sets, two side-by-side, and one slightly ahead.

  Desmond reached out, touching one of them. He was trying to see if there was a life force still attached to them, trying to get an image in his mind. But he couldn't feel anything, meaning they were slightly too far behind.

  “Ping,” he told Nathaniel, and Nathaniel took a deep breath, focusing to make his magic invisible. He sent it forward to the tunnel. It returned after a moment, and his eyes widened.

  “There's something that feels like Eliza's,” he said. “But not quite. It's that way, though.”

  “Let's go, then,” Desmond straightened up. He only got a few steps forward before he remembered that he wasn't alone. Turning to his side, he put his hand on Sienna's shoulder.

  ‘Behind me,’ he said. ‘In front of Nathaniel.’

  ‘But…’ she started. ‘I'm strong.’

  “Yes, little one, you are very strong,” he said. “But you aren't trained, not yet. I am not treating you differently than any other Tiro of your age. Nathaniel and I will do battle if we have to. You defend yourself.”

  Whether or not she understood his words didn't matter; she understood the meaning. She slunk between the two of them, and they continued to walk.

  It was around the next bend, that they heard a noise. They stopped moving at once and heard footsteps slowly coming toward them.

  Desmond tensed and indicated they should press up against the wall as he held his breath.

  The footsteps came closer, and he stored magic in his fingertips. He had no idea what they were facing, and it was the worst kind of threat.

  He trusted Nathaniel, beside him, to act as an extension of himself. It had taken a long time to get Nathaniel to behave that way, but now, he didn't even have to think. He would move left, and Nathaniel would cover his left.

  The footsteps were about to round the corner when he felt a magical ping. They were trying to recognize him, and he resisted it. But it meant that there was a witch around the corner, and that baffled him.

  He jumped forward, his hands tense. Nathaniel led the way, ready to fire.

  Sybil and Kierry came into view in the exact same position.

  Nathaniel dropped his hands right away, his eyes wide in shock.

  “What are you doing here?” he hissed. Sybil raised an eyebrow.

  “I'm on a quest. What are you doing here?”

  “I'm…oh, Creator.” Nathaniel shook his head as he embraced his friend. “Everyone thinks you're dead.”

  “Kierry,” Desmond said, greeting Sybil's young Tiro. She was only a few years older than Sienna, but she was clearly stronger, and ready for fighting. Kierry raised her chin, showing off a bruised face. “Do you need medical attention?”

  “No,” Kierry replied. “I am fine.”

  “Why didn't you call in?” Nathaniel asked Sybil, grateful that
she alive at all.

  “Because when tracking a hitman, who is used to tracking people, one doesn't give their position away,” Sybil replied. “I thought the Jurors would have more faith in me.”

  “They did,” Nathaniel said. “But it's been too long. Are you even supposed to be here?”

  “Considering the hitman is the first cousin of the Queen of Jeffro,” Sybil said. “They should have expected it. Sorry. I wanted to tell you, but you know I couldn't.”

  “That must be the life force I'm feeling,” Nathaniel said. “Her cousin would feel similar. I knew they were trying to kill her; it was the best theory.”

  “I've been tracking him for days,” Sybil said. “But they are a whole network, and it's not easy. They keep changing places and swapping out their lead man.”

  “Do they have Eliza?” Nathaniel asked frantically.

  “The queen is missing?” Sybil asked, and then realized what had happened. “Probably. A few days ago, we detected that they added another person to their party. There's only one down here, but he's the ringleader. If we get him, we will get the rest.”

  “The Jurors needs to understand what classified quests might relate to each other,” Desmond shook his head. “This is typical.”

  “I'm not surprised,” Sybil gave him a quirky grin. “But we can stick it to them when we get back.”

  “Mariah's sitting on the throne right now,” Desmond put in. “So, the first thing you'll do is see her. And then we can stick it to the Jurors.”

  “Sorry, Sybil. I love you,” Nathaniel said, “but why are we just standing here?”

  “The tunnels are a dead end,” Sybil said. “We turned back when we felt you coming in, to take care of the threat. But the rat is at the end. He's not going anywhere.”

  “You're sure it's a dead end?” Nathaniel asked, and Sybil raised an eyebrow.

  “How little faith you have in me,” she answered. “Are you all in fighting form?”

  “Yes,” Desmond answered. “You have a strategy?”

  “Not with this many of us,” Sybil gave him a wide grin. “If it was just Kierry and me, we might have to fight. But with this many of us, my job becomes a lot easier. Kierry, on point?”