One of the drifts directly above them had shifted slightly.
Serra tried to shush the fighting couple, but was afraid to raise her voice. The snow pack above them groaned again, shifted again.
“Move.” Reks said. It sounded as though his voice had stuck in his throat. “Move!” He said again, but with more force. Rian and Sylvan who had still been fighting stopped and looked around terrified.
“Into the river. We’ll move faster in the river.”
Shadowdancer, as if sensing the approaching danger had already plunged into the icy water. Serra’s legs went immediately numb. The others followed suit, above them the snowpack began to fall, rushing toward them with a fury of speed that took Serra’s breath away. If she hadn’t been frightened that she was going to die in the avalanche she might have thought the movement of the rushing white quite pretty.
As it was she was too focused on helping Shadowdancer to move. The little mare swam forward, struggling at once to both stay close to the shore and to stay afloat. Serra glanced behind her. All her companions were there, but it seemed that Vaughn had lost his grip on the reins to the pack mule. She saw the little animal struggling to stay afloat in the middle of the river, far behind the rest of them. Horrified, Serra watched as the white wave of snow swept down the side of the mountain and into the river, swallowing up the mule.
“To me!” Sylvan shouted. “Everyone come to me.” Serra tried to slow down Shadowdancer, but the river swept them along. Reks was beside her. Serra looked back again. The wall was getting closer. Just before it hit, Serra saw a shimmering light appear around them. She braced herself for impact, taking a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut.
She felt a jerk and an acceleration of motion, but no wave of stifling snow. Instead, there was only black and a roaring so loud that Serra though she would never hear anything else again.
“You can open your eyes,” Sylvan said from somewhere close by. Serra did and blinked. A small green flame hovered above Sylvan’s palm. Sweat stood out on her forehead and it seemed that she had aged about twenty years in twenty seconds. “Serra,” she said. “Hold out your hand. Your uninjured hand.” Serra did as she was asked.
Sylvan tipped her hand and the flames that she held slid to Serra’s palm. That done she collapsed against the neck of her horse, closing her eyes. Serra held up the flame to better see what had happened. A box of magic surrounded them flat on the bottom where their horses stood, but rounded on the top, almost like the protection spells that Sylvan performed for them each night. River water rushed under and around them, while snow covered the top.
“How are we going to get out of here?” She asked softly.
“We’re still moving.” Vaughn said, carefully swinging down from the back of his horse. Surprise crossed his face when his feet made contact with the bottom of their shelter. “It’s squishy, like walking on water with a covering of fabric.”
He waddled, since walking on water was unbalancing, to where Sylvan was immobile, reached up and helped her off her horse. She wasn’t asleep as Serra had originally thought and as soon as his hands closed around her, the dryad’s eyes flew open.
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Protection spells in water are a lot harder to maintain then if they’re just in air.”
The guard laid her carefully on the ground and nodded. “You just concentrate on keeping us protected. We’ll figure something out.”
“We will?” asked Reks, sarcastically. “I don’t really see how. We’re stuck halfway underwater and covered in snow.”
“Reks,” Serra said her tone warning.
“We shouldn’t waste the air with talking.” Rian said. He had turned away from them and was examining the wall of magic.
“What?” gasped Serra.
“Well, as Reks just pointed out. We are in water and snow with no air flow. We need to conserve our air for just breathing, not talking.”
“We seem to be slowing down.” Reks commented.
Serra didn’t dare say anything. Instead she focused on her breathing. In slowly, out slowly, in slowly, out slowly.
“I’ll keep us going,” said Sylvan. “Until we can get out from under this snow.” They moved steadily along, the snow sliding up and over their protective barrier. Serra imagined that anyone who was watching from above would see and bubble of snow, like a mole or a gopher would make in the ground.
After about five minutes, Sylvan sighed from her place on the ground. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t have the energy.”
“Reks, will you help me down?” Serra asked and he obliged, being careful to not jostle her splint or the light that Serra held over her palm. She moved to Sylvan. “Use mine.” she said, sitting down on the squishy surface and taking the dryad’s hand. “I have more then I know what to do with.” Their light source flickered over their joined hands.
Sylvan sighed as though she had just slipped into a nice hot bath. The floor of their protective barrier became more solid under Serra, as though it were actually ground or wood. A rushing sound filled her ears and moments later they burst from the snow, though they were still in the middle of the river. Serra turned her head and looked back the way they had come. It was impossible to tell where the river had flowed before the avalanche. Chunks of snow broke off from the mass to float down the river next to them.
“Sylvan?” Serra said softly. “Can you move us to the shore?”
“Yes.” The word was faint.
As soon as they reached the shore the shell seemed to roll up it, out of the water and onto the land.
Sylvan sighed and let the barrier drop, then fell into a deep sleep. Serra stood up and looked at the men. “We should let her sleep at least for the rest of the day.”
Vaughn shook his head. “We have to keep moving.” Serra opened her mouth to argue with him, but he shook his head and cut her off. “Serra, we lost the mule. We have next to no food supplies for us and nothing for the horses. We have to keep moving.”
Serra closed her mouth. She couldn’t argue with his logic. They did need to get to the village in the foothills and fast.
“She can sleep for the rest of the morning then we have to get going,” Reks said, gently.
They went about setting up camp, building a fire and wrapping Sylvan in heavy blankets. Without a word Reks took up Sylvan’s bow and her quiver of arrows and disappeared into the falling snow around them.
Serra huddled as close as she could to the fire, trying to stay warm and wondered where Reks had gone off to. Maybe he was scouting out ahead, figuring out just how far they had floated down the river.
Serra’s clothes were still wet and they grew uncomfortably cold even with the heat of her body and the fire to dry them. Thinking of how Sylvan had been able to use her power to strengthen the barrier and push them down river, Serra wondered if she would be able to use her own magic to dry her clothes.
Focusing on the pointer finger of her uninjured arm she touched her pants and muttered, “myrdraw.” Her pants warmed and steamed slightly but did not dry all the way. She tried again and again, until finally, her pants were dry. Then she moved on to other articles of her clothing, drying each one in turn. Having finished with herself she moved to Sylvan, then Rian and Vaughn.
She wished that Reks had not disappeared. She wanted to show him her newfound ability and she was sure that he was freezing wherever he was.
The dry clothes helped Serra to be more comfortable, but thoughts of their lack of food kept her from relaxing entirely. She said a silent prayer for the little mule that had not survived the avalanche and quietly mourned the loss of the book and potions that Master Gerard had given them.
Maybe, just maybe, if she concentrated enough, she could create a raft out of magic. They could float down river to the next village and rest there. But to do it she would need Sylvan awake enough to act as a channel for Serra’s magic, since she didn’t have enough experience to control her power on her own.
Se
rra scooted over to the dryad’s side and prodded her awake. She told Sylvan of her plan, when she was awake enough to comprehend it, and the dryad agreed that it would be for the best.
As they finished their conversation Reks returned to the camp, carrying two white hares in his hands. He made quick work of skinning them while Vaughn built a spit out of branches found nearby. Soon the small creatures were crackling and popping as they roasted over the fire.
Serra dried Reks’ clothes while they waited for the meal to cook and relayed her and Sylvan’s plan to get them out of the mountains. The others listened intently.
“Are you sure you can do that?” Rian asked. He couldn’t keep the note of relief from his voice.
The two girls looked at each other and nodded. “I’m sure that I can give Sylvan enough of my magic to get us down river.” She looked at Reks. “How long would it take us to reach the village?”
“A day, maybe a day and a half.”
“I can do it for that long.”
Rian turned bright blue eyes to Sylvan. “And what about you? Can you hold on for that long?”
Sylvan smiled slightly. “I can almost believe that you’re worried about me, Rian. It’s sweet, really. Yes. I can hold on for that long, especially with Serra. Her magic’s not like anything I’ve felt before. It’s so strong and it wants to help as much as Serra does, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Vaughn leaned forward and checked the hare, found that it was done and began to slice off pieces of the hot meat. Sylvan, who normally didn’t eat animal, had no other option than to eat the food that was given her.
Serra ate ravenously, savoring the taste of the juices that flowed from the meat and glorying in the feel of hot food in her stomach.
When they had finished Serra and Sylvan moved to the edge of the river, Sylvan heavily supported by Serra. Serra willed her magic into Sylvan, through every part of her body that touched the dryad. Soon Sylvan was standing straight, revived by the magic that Serra offered so freely. They clasped hands and Sylvan’s eyes narrowed, focusing on a spot in the water.
Serra watched as a purple shimmer spread over the top of the muddy grey water. Sylvan’s eyes narrowed even more in concentration, trying to make their magical raft large enough for five horses and five people. When it had reached the width and length that Sylvan wanted she forced the bottom of the raft down into the river, while pulling the sides up to create a railing or sorts.
“The hard part is done.” She said, when she’d finished. “Let’s try it out before we start moving the horses onto it.”
Serra nodded and, still holding hands, they stepped onto the raft of magic. Serra had thought that the floor would be squishy as it had been in the other protective bubble they’d traveled in, but instead the magic felt as solid as wood under her boots, as if they had built an actual raft.
“Alright, bring the horses!” she called to Reks, Rian and Vaughn. Shadowdancer needed no prodding from the men. Instead, she cantered over by herself and stepped daintily onto the raft, as though she traveled on magic all the time.
The other horses, as if sensing the little black mare’s calm, followed suit and were easily pulled onto the invisible boat. Reks, Rian and Vaughn followed. When they were all settled, Sylvan squeezed Serra’s hand and they pulled away from the shore.
Snow continued to fall around them. About five minutes into their journey, Sylvan grew frustrated with the cold wet flakes hitting her in the face and she pulled the magic up and over their heads, creating a warm cocoon within their boat.
Serra’s hand grew sweaty where she clutched at Sylvan, but she did not let go, for the fear that if they were no longer touching, Sylvan would lose control of their raft. But after a while Sylvan flexed her fingers and said. “I think we can let go. Since you’re touching the raft, it will continue to draw from you, but not from me. Just don’t jump or anything so that you’re not touching it anymore, okay?”
Serra nodded and pulled her fingers from Sylvan’s grip, her heart beating hard all the while. She waited for the feel of hardwood to disintegrate from underneath her, but the magic held firm.
They floated along, traveling far faster than they would have had they continued on foot and Serra marveled at how, not two months ago she had not been able to do any sort of magic at all.
“Her jealousy will be the end of her,” Vaughn murmured from nearby.
“What?” Serra asked.
“I was just thinking about what Alida said. Valaine’s jealousy will be the end of her. What does it mean? What would one of the most powerful mages in the world be jealous of?”
Serra shook her head. She could hardly understand the mind of a person who would take children away from their parents. “It could be anything. From what Alida told us the woman sounds like she is just plain crazy.”
Reks spoke up from the other side of the raft. “She might be jealous of a mage with more power than her.”
“I agree,” said Sylvan.
“So, it stands to reason that the one person alive today that she would be jealous of would be Serra,” Reks said, his silver eyes searching through the approaching dark to pierce Serra.
“What? No… no.” Serra shook her head emphatically. “I’m not anything to be jealous of. I mean, I can hardly even control my magic. I have to have Sylvan do it for me.”
“Mistress Vaneza did say that you are the most powerful mage in the country now. And as much as I don’t like her, she wouldn’t lie about something like that. I’m sure it hurt her pride to even admit it,” Vaughn added.
“Serra, you have to be extra careful. No more shifting.” Rian commanded.
Serra didn’t bother to tell them that she had already planned on not shifting. She would only suffer for it while her arm was still broken, shifting while in Brencis had proven that to her. She also didn’t bother telling them that she wished they would stop ordering her around. She knew as well as they did the danger that surrounded her gift. She knew that many people would stop at nothing to gain the aid of a Shifter. She also knew that many people would think that what she could do was unnatural, that the ability to shift would mean she was impure, something not of the gods above, but of the demon gods below.
They continued with their conversation. while Serra sat and quietly thought to herself. If jealousy was to be Valaine’s downfall and the only thing that she would be jealous of would be Serra, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that Serra needed to be captured by the death muxins to stop Valaine?
Serra did not point this out to her companions.
As night came upon them the clouds above them cleared leaving a crisp winter’s sky. The moon shone bright from her place in the sky, illuminating the landscape around them with startling clarity. The trees and cliffs looked as though they had been frosted with pure white sugar.
While the others bedded down for the night, Serra sat up.
The horses huffed and shifted in their sleep, heads bowed toward the ground. The sounds of steady breathing made it difficult for Serra to remain awake, but she didn’t want to sleep for fear that in slumber she would call her magic back to her and they would all drown before they could wake up enough to swim to the safety of the shore.
Her head drooped, then shot up, drooped again. She shook herself trying to remain awake. But her eyelids were so heavy, she simply could not keep them open. She would close them for only a moment, just to let them rest. “Only a moment…” she murmured and her eyes slid shut.
Chapter 26
SERRA
She was shaken awake by a hand on her shoulder. “Serra.” It was Reks. She sat up abruptly, brought fully awake by the panic that squeezed painfully at her chest. She had fallen asleep. Were they alright? Had the boat held up? She blinked and looked around. They were still in the middle of the river, still floating. Afternoon sun beat down on them from a painfully bright blue sky. Since when had the sun ever been that bright in winter?
“We need to get off the river. We’re almost t
o the village, but we can’t sail up on an invisible boat made from magic.”
Serra nodded and stood. Sylvan joined her and together they maneuvered the boat to the shore, where they disembarked. Serra worked at calling her magic back to her, but still felt drained as though she had not slept enough, even though she had slept until well past noon.
The snow here was much lighter only about a foot or so and the horses could move through it easily. After twenty minutes of travel they reached the outskirts of the small village.
The buildings were made of wood and looked like the gingerbread houses that Rose, the cook in the Great House, made for Solstice every year. Smoke piped merrily out of the chimneys, children played in the snow covered streets and yards. They scattered when they saw the strangers approaching from the mountains, ran into houses to tell their parents of the visitors.
A group of adults met them in the middle of the village, hands clutching various farming tools, eyes wary.
Serra dismounted from Shadowdancer, careful to not jostle her arm. It was well on its way to being healed, but it still ached. She swayed slightly, as if unable to hold her own weight. When balance had been restored, she approached the group.
She smiled. “My companions and I got lost in the mountains. We have been wandering for days. Our food ran out yesterday.” The statement wasn’t quite true, but Serra kept her voice as sincere as possible. “We only ask for a warm place to rest and food for our bellies. We have the means to pay.”
At this the eyes of the villagers brightened a bit. Serra swayed again and one of the men approached, concern on his face. Making the boat had taken more of her energy then she had thought. He reached out to steady her, but was pushed out of the way by a short plump woman with curly brown hair pulled back into a bun. “Oh, just look at you. Frozen stiff I’ll wager, and with no food in your bellies. You’ll come and stay at the inn.”
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