They made no move to lift the death muxin off her. "Do you want to tell us what the hell that was about?" Vaughn asked.
In a flash, Serra decided to play dumb. Her face stayed angry as she said, "What are you talking about?"
"Seems to me you could have killed this one yourself. You were readying for it, and then you just gave up."
"What? That's ridiculous! I was fighting. But this death muxin, it could talk. We've never seen one that could talk. He must have put some sort of spell on me or something. I was fighting him, and then all the sudden I was on the ground under him." She hardened her voice even more. "I was trying to kill him."
Rian looked at Sylvan. "Is it possible?"
The dryad shrugged. "I suppose anything is possible, especially when we're dealing with a mage as old as Valaine. If she wanted Serra, she might have cast a spell for only her. She doesn't care about how many of them," here she nudged the death muxin with her foot, "die. If this death muxin had gotten his hands on her it would have only taken a second for him to jump away."
"Jump?" Vaughn asked.
Sylvan nodded. "I've been thinking about it. Why is it so hard to catch these things? If they’re not attacking us, we never see them. I think that Valaine has given them the words for jumping or um, teleporting away."
"Like Serra has done with us?"
"Exactly."
Serra’s back was completely soaked. "That is fascinating, really, but can you please help me up? The snow has soaked through every layer of clothing and this thing is leaking on me. I don't think I'll ever feel warm or clean again."
"Right, sorry." Vaughn and Reks pulled the creature up and Serra shimmied out from under it. As soon as she could, she turned away gagging from the stench of rotting flesh that was sure to never leave her. She picked up handfuls of snow and began to vigorously rub it against her neck, cheek and hair, trying to get most of the goo off her.
It failed miserably. It was almost as if the green slime had bonded itself to her skin and nothing short of hot water and soap was going to get it off.
"We should move on." Vaughn said, already packing up his bedroll. "She might send more after Serra."
The other companions nodded and in no time the camp was empty, the only sign that anyone had been there were the dead creatures that had attacked them.
They traveled quickly, stopping only for short breaks. Serra fell asleep in the saddle more times then she cared to count. So much so that she started riding in front of Reks in the circle of his arms, so that he could keep her from falling from the back of her horse.
The skin the greenish ooze had touched began to itch uncontrollably and red welts had appeared. Sylvan told her not to scratch, and Serra protested that she hadn't been. But it was clear that Sylvan didn't believe her. Serra tried again and again to remove the slime from her skin, but it refused to leave.
They reached Port Luna about a week after they had been attacked. The welts had turned a greenish blue and spread down Serra's neck, onto her right shoulder and arm. Her body was wracked with shivers and a fever was her near constant companion.
When they reached the wall of the city Serra underwent a painful transformation to hide her sickness. She did nothing more than remove the welts and add a Caste Mark to the back of her hand, but she was shaking from the effort of holding it as they passed under the stone archway into the city. The guards eyed her as they passed. One of them stepped into their path to block them from continuing.
“Pardon me, miss. Are you feeling well?”
Serra forced a tired smile to her lips. “I’m quite well.”
Reks rode up next to her. “I thank you for your concern for my wife’s health. But she is simply out of sorts from traveling. We thought it would be faster in this weather to make our way here without the carriage since the roads are so muddy, but it has exhausted her, as you see.”
The guard nodded, looking just as tired as Serra herself felt. “This time of year, we can’t be too careful. There is already an epidemic in the lower city and along the wharfs. If that sickness reaches the upper city, we’re all done for.”
Reks smiled tightly. “I can appreciate that, but my wife is not sick, she is merely tired. Now, if you'll excuse me I would like to get her to an Inn so that she may rest.”
“Yes, yes. The Three Candles Inn is just up the street. Annabel will take good care of you.”
As they rode away Serra heard another guard joke, “Well, she always takes good care of me.” And she relaxed.
The main room of the Three Candles was large, bright and very warm after the cold of the outside. Serra sat on a long bench against a wall as Vaughn arranged for rooms for them. She began to sweat under all her layers of clothes. Sylvan sat next to her, anxiously eying her face. “Serra, the marks are showing.”
Serra dropped her chin to her chest and concentrated harder. “I’m sorry. I can’t control it.”
Sylvan pulled the hood of Serra’s cloak up draping it to cover her cheek. “I’m going to go see what’s taking so long. Don’t move.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her. Someone was chopping wood outside; the rhythmic chopping was soothing. In her head, she saw a big burly man with ax in hand he placed a piece of wood in his chopping block, lifts his arms and Thwack! The wood shatters into two perfect pieces. He picks up another piece of wood, places it on the chopping block and Thwack! The piece is split.
“Serra?” Reks voice was soft. “Serra. We have a room for you, can you stand?”
“Can you hear the chopping? It sounds nice. Soothing.” There was a feeling of weightlessness as someone scooped her up into their arms. Serra’s head lolled against their shoulder. She kept her eyes closed, didn’t see who it was that was that carried her. She heard Reks explaining again that she was merely exhausted. He asked for dinner to be served in their rooms and for a bath to be brought up shortly.
A small smile crept across her face. A bath! It would give her a chance to get the death muxin smell off her. That was the last thought she had before she drifted off to sleep.
A fever raged through her body, making her toss and turn, sending her through dreams that were so bizarre there was no hope of understanding what they meant. She recalled the feeling of being submerged in warm water, of Sylvan washing her hair gently. She awoke several times in the haze and each time someone was by her side.
"It’s our fault," Sylvan said once, perched on the edge of the chair next to the bed. Rian stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "If we'd just gotten that thing off her right away, she wouldn't have been exposed to so much of that substance."
Rian squeezed her shoulder. "This is Valaine's fault. She's the one who did this. Not us."
"But we were so set on making a point. On figuring out what she was doing." Sylvan bit her lip as if trying to keep back tears. "What if she dies?"
Serra tried to reach out, to speak and tell her friend that she was going to be fine, but sleep pulled her down again.
She had a vague memory of Vaughn propping her up, trying to coax water down her throat. “You have to drink, Serra.” She shook her head fighting him. “Please, just as tiny sip.”
His voice sounded so desperate that she sighed and did as he asked. “That’s good,” he murmured taking the glass away. “Now you can sleep.”
When Serra woke again there was a man next to her she didn't recognize. Panic gripped her and she sat up like a bolt. Gentle hands pushed her back to the bed. "Shh, Serra. This is Bernard. He's a healer. He's here to help."
"Reks?"
His hands smoothed her hair back from her sweaty face, his lips brushed her forehead. "Just lie still."
She lay back, but she couldn't keep from saying. "It hurts. What he's doing hurts." There was a flash inside her head, bright white and burning and then she slept again.
When she woke after that her head felt clearer. The room was dark and cool. She lay quietly, enjoying the feel of the
bed beneath her and the silence that surrounded her. After a moment, she opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of a stone ceiling. Feeling weak, but curious, she struggled into a sitting position, expecting to see Sylvan or Reks in a chair next to her. But the room was empty.
There was a candle on the bed next to her. She pointed at it and tried to lite it with the spell Sylvan had given her. “Teli.” The wick smoked but did not light. A box of matches sat next to the candle. She scooted to the edge of the bed and struck a match. Light flickered over the room.
She pushed the blankets off her and carefully placed her feet on the floor. A heavy metal bracelet circled her ankle, odd but perhaps it was something that the healer had placed on her to help with her sickness. She stood from the bed and went around the room lighting the candles she came across. The room was comfortable with plush rugs on the floors and large overstuffed chairs. Books lined the walls and there was a tray of food, still warm, on a table set with delicate dishes and a vase of snowdrop flowers.
The one door in the room led to the bathing facilities. There were no windows, no cracks in the walls that allowed light to filter through.
There was no door. There was no way out.
Panic overwhelmed Serra as she realized that she was no longer at The Three Candles Inn in Port Luna. She was in the hands of an enemy.
Chapter 29
SYLVAN
Sylvan woke early and slid out of the bed. She regretted leaving the warmth of Rian's body, but an urgency drove her from the covers. She wouldn't rest easy until she'd checked on Serra. She pulled her robe on and stepped out into the hall. Serra's room was only one door down.
She knocked softly to let Reks know she was coming in. The room was dark, despite the dying fire in the hearth. Reks was in the chair that she herself had so often occupied, his head tilted back, his mouth hanging open. He was dead asleep. Sylvan crept over and put her hand on his shoulder. He stirred but did not wake.
Smiling softly, Sylvan looked toward the bed, pulling back the light white curtains. Her fingers tightened on Reks, until he started awake with a loud, "owww!"
"Where is she?" Sylvan's voice was hardly more than a whisper.
"What the hell, Sylvan!"
"Reks, where is she? Where did Serra go?"
Reks stood up like a shot, his gaze taking in the rumpled bed covers. "She can't have gone far. When Bernard left she still had a high fever."
Sylvan gripped his arms. "What if she wandered out into the snow? She could have done it without even thinking about it. Reks if people see her... It’s obvious that she's sick. They'll panic. Who knows what they’ll do?"
Sylvan had never seen the Thief Lord look so pale. She grasped his arm. "Go wake the others. I'll look around here for signs of what might have happened."
Reks nodded once and strode to the door. Sylvan went to the bed and fingered the sheets. They still felt warm. If Serra had left it had only been in the last few minutes. It was obvious that Reks had seen nothing, but maybe someone downstairs had seen her leave.
She had just opened the door when a faint tingling filled the air. "Thistle!" The dryad spun around and the small white light that was Thistle flew in front of her face. She seemed less bright than normal and she floated lazily, as though flying was terribly hard for her. Sylvan held out her hand and the pixie landed on her palm.
"What happened?"
She listened as Thistle let out a series of rings and deciphered them. "Serra was in bed. She was hot, so hot. She tossed and turned, then grew quiet. Then 'pop' she was gone."
Sylvan shook her head. "You mean she disappeared?" Thistle nodded. "She teleported?" Another nod. "Then she could be anywhere."
The pixie shook her head. "The blowback from the spell was so intense it knocked me out. I think the ooze not only made her sick, but also connected her to the evil one. I think she was taken."
Sylvan's stomach dropped and she felt dizzy. The door behind her opened and the boys entered.
"Sylvan? Sylvan, what happened?" She felt Rian’s hand on her shoulder.
"Valaine has her. Somehow, she teleported her out of here. Somehow that green goo helped her. It’s our fault. If Valaine has Serra, it’s all over. There's nothing we can do. Serra has enough magic in her little finger to let Valaine live for hundreds of years. She'll be able to destroy anything she wants.”
Chapter 30
SERRA
Serra made a second circuit of the room, she moved slowly feeling along the wall for any crack that might show a weakness in the wall. She found none. The metal bracelet around her ankle felt heavy and uncomfortable. She sat on the bed and tried to fit it over her heel, with little luck.
A neat pile of folded clothes sat on the bench at the end of the bed. She unfolded them one by one and found a complete set of soft under things, a long sleeved dark blue shift and a silvery overdress. A pair of soft black leather slippers completed the outfit. She didn't know what was coming, but she'd feel a damn-sight better facing it in real clothes instead of the worn and faded nightgown she'd borrowed from Sylvan.
She changed quickly, frequently glancing over her shoulders. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. After she was dressed she braided her hair, wrapped it around head and pinned it in place with hairpins she found on a low table that also contained cosmetics.
The necklace Sylvan’s mother had given her still hung around her neck. Serra tucked it under her dress to press against her skin.
The food was tempting, but she didn't trust it. If she was in Valaine's citadel, then everything was under suspicion. Her tummy grumbled as she looked at the plates of roasted meat and fluffy potatoes with rich butter. Despite her having been up for at least an hour the food still steamed in its serving dishes, magicked to hold in the heat, no doubt.
"Please, eat something." A voice spoke from behind her.
Serra spun in time to see an opening in the wall slide shut. Standing in front of where the door had been, was a bent old woman. Her white hair hung in wisps around her withered face. The old woman smiled showing black spots where her teeth should have been.
"You'll need to keep your strength up for what’s to come." Her voice was rusty and cracked.
"Valaine?" Serra's voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
"Oh, do stop looking at me like that." She stepped farther into the room. "If you think I look bad now you should have seen me three months ago. I was truly wretched then. I could barely move. But the children helped me and soon I shall be as young as you." Serra bumped into the wall. She hadn’t realized that she’d been slowly backing away from the hobbling witch. “Come, now, dear. You should know you can’t escape. That lovely little bracelet around your ankle keeps you from doing any sort of magic. Go ahead and try. Try to change into a cat. I’ll tell you what, if you can change into a cat, I’ll let you go.” She motioned with her hand and the door behind her slide open. “Go on, try. It’ll be ever so much fun.”
Serra tried. Gods, how she tried. She felt the change start, felt her bones begin to shrink. Her skin tightened and wiggled, but after a moment her body returned to its normal shape.
Valaine cackled in a delighted way. The door slid shut once again. “I must admit you got farther than I thought you would.” She clapped her hands together girlishly, and stumped toward Serra. “You are going to taste so good when I eat you.”
Serra’s stomach dropped and her heart beat faster. “E-eat me?”
“Yes. Well, I won’t really eat your flesh. But your magic.” She licked her lips, brushed her hand against Serra’s hair. “Yes, your magic will taste delicious. I can already feel it, calling to me. I could feel it as soon as you left your little protected city. I knew I had to have your magic. It will sustain me for years to come. And I will be young again.” She shimmered and her image wavered, within moments a beautiful young girl stood before her. Surprisingly she looked very little like the images of the red haired twins that Alida had shown them. Instead, she ha
d dark brown hair and blue-green eyes. Valaine smiled softly with Serra’s lips, “surprised? There’s a certain amount of transference from whatever child I take the most magic from. I have been seven different people throughout the years. I had thought to take on the guise of your friend Evalyne, but this will do quite nicely.” Her image wavered again and soon she was back to her own bent self.
“Eva? She’s here?” Serra hated the way her voice quivered.
“Oh, yes, she’s here. Kept her magic hidden away quite nicely. Even you didn’t suspect it. Of course, she hardly knew what to do with it herself. Mostly glamours. Vain little girl that she is.” She walked to the table, stuck her fingers into the mashed potatoes and scooped some into her mouth. She gummed them for a while then swallowed. “Eat something and when you’re done, I’ll take you to her, to all the children.” The witch motioned with her hand and the chair pulled itself away from the table. “Sit.” Serra sat. “Eat. You really don’t think I’d poison you before I’ve eaten your magic, do you? It would make it taste terrible.”
Serra shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Valaine cackled again. “You’ve got spirit. I like that. It makes it so much more fun when I crush it out of you.” The door slid shut behind her.
Serra helped herself to the food, though she pointedly avoided eating the mashed potatoes, which was a shame because they would have gone so well with the thick beef gravy. She just couldn’t bring herself to eat something she knew the witch had touched. She drank water, avoiding the carafe of red wine. She needed to keep a clear head on her shoulders for when the witch came back.
When she had finished eating she sat on the bed and focused all her energy into changing. Sweat broke out on her brow, but she could not shift. “Alright then,” she murmured to herself. “Maybe something a little easier.” She held out her hand palm up and concentrated as hard as she could. The tiniest light flickered over her palm. She was shaking with the effort. She let go, breathing heavy, then tried again.
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