Golden Apple, The

by Diener, Michelle

  “He didn’t have a choice. To get the golden apple,” she glared at Soren, “to free you, he placed himself under Eric’s power. Now that he’d accomplished what Eric wanted, he’s gone back to have the enchantment lifted.”

  “What did he have to do?” Soren’s eyes were narrow.

  “He had to steal a magical gem.”

  “And how do you know so much about this? Why are you here?”

  Stung by his tone, after everything she’d done for him, she drew herself up. “I know so much because I got caught up in Rane’s enchantment. I’m in this as deep as he is.”

  “Does Rane know you can control wild magic?” He spoke slowly.

  “He does.”

  “I can’t see him being happy about it. Can’t see him being mixed up with you at all to tell the truth, princess.”

  Kayla stared at him. She saw her hands were sparking, and she held them out in front of her. Tilted them this way and that, watching the play of light. “You De’Villier boys are very hard-pressed to express gratitude, aren’t you?”

  He moved, uncomfortable for the first time. “What did you do for Rane?”

  “Besides ensnaring myself in Eric’s enchantment to help him save you?” She thought of what she’d given to Rane, and clamped tight on her jaw. “Never mind.”

  The wild magic sphere drifted closer, leaving the trees to move into the clearing, and its purple light threw deep shadows under Soren’s cheekbones, across his collarbone, stark and prominent. Her anger and frustration were suddenly gone.

  Jasper had been starving him to death.

  She caught sight of the abandoned bags, and crouched beside them, belatedly remembering she’d left her own, with all the food, just outside Jasper’s fortress.

  She thought of the spot, and suddenly she was there, her bags just in front of her. She gasped, finding it hard to breathe. Jasper’s fortress loomed up—a silent, solid wall of darkness. She laid a hand on the bags, listened for a moment. Nothing.

  She wished herself back in the clearing, and as she appeared, still in a crouch, Sooty knocked her over.

  “Hey!” She lay on her back, and Soren stood over her, fury in his eyes.

  “Where did you go?”

  “I remembered I left my bags with all the food just outside Jasper’s. I didn’t realize I’d be able to go there and back so easily.” She sat up, looked across at the wild magic sphere. “Must be all the wild magic around.”

  Sooty rubbed against her shoulder, and she smiled. “Miss me, did you?” She glanced at Soren. “I was gone for all of one minute.”

  Soren held out a hand, and she took it, allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  “If felt longer than that. I didn’t know what had happened to you.” He dropped her hand like it was hot the moment she was standing.

  She still held the bags, and she dipped into one, rifled through them for something she thought he could hold down after so long without food and held out a hunk of bread. She saw the wariness in his eyes. And the hunger.

  “Your brother trusts me. He left the golden apple with me, his only means of getting you back.” She did not look away from him, and at last, he gave a nod and tugged the bread from her hand. Bit into it.

  He crouched beside the bags left in the clearing, and pulled out a few changes of clothes. Kayla watched him rub a cloak thoughtfully between finger and thumb.

  “What happened to these men?”

  “I don’t know.” Kayla shrugged. “The bags were here earlier.”

  He turned the packs over, looked at them more closely, and Kayla had a sense he’d seen them before. Knew their owners. “Where do we find Eric?”

  “I last saw him in Gaynor. That’s the only place I can think of to start.” Sooty butted Kayla’s legs, and she shook herself. “I think Gaynor is that way. I suppose I can use wild magic to get us to the edge of the forest where Rane and I started. The horses might even still be there.” She pointed to a path on the other side of the clearing.

  Soren looked down at the packs again. “What would have the power to make five or more men vanish into thin air? And what were they doing back here, so close to the stronghold? At least two guards taunted me with the fact they were going out to hunt for Rane.”

  A cold, sick feeling settled over Kayla, and she dropped suddenly to her knees, pawing through all the packs, looking for a sign that Rane had been here.

  He couldn’t have been caught in the gem’s power, he couldn’t…

  Soren laid a hand on her shoulder, and crouched beside her. “What is it?”

  Only the fear on his face brought her back to herself, because she saw it was fear of her.

  “The gem. If it’s touched, it sends out a blast of power. I was able to shield myself from it when I took it from Ylana, but if these men managed to capture Rane, and they searched him…”

  “They would have searched him.” Soren spoke with grim certainty. “But Rane’s things aren’t here. I already looked, to see if you were lying to me.”

  She nodded, uncaring of his distrust. She only cared that Rane was safe. “The gem isn’t here, either, and it would be, if everyone was caught in its blast. Someone’s taken it, someone who knows not to touch it.” She remembered Sooty sniffing on the other side of the large log on one side of the fireplace and walked over to it. Turned back to look at the cut ropes near the packs.

  “Rane saw what they were going to do, and shielded himself behind the log. Then he got his knife out of the packs and cut his ropes and carried on. The enchantment would compel him to.”

  Soren joined her, looking at the ground beside the log, and then walked back to the ropes. “This was Rane’s knife, no question. Nothing cuts like that thing.”

  He looked around at the empty clearing again. “Does Eric know what this gem does? Did he warn you what would happen when you touched it?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t and it would have served no purpose for him to send us to our deaths. I don’t doubt for a moment he truly wants it. He must have heard it is powerful, but he doesn’t know the nature of that power.”

  “What will happen if he touches it?”

  Kayla reached out and rubbed Sooty’s head. “I don’t know. Perhaps he can protect himself like I did. Perhaps he can direct it, or use it some other way. He’s powerful, more powerful than I am.” She gave a dry laugh. “I barely know what I’m doing.”

  “And Rane is giving this thing to him?” There was plain disbelief in Soren’s voice.

  “What choice does he have?” Her voice was hot with indignation. “As far as he knows, if he doesn’t he can’t rescue you. Which is why we need to find him as quickly as we can. Let him know you’re safe.”

  Soren stood, stiff and angry, and then gave a reluctant nod.

  “Can you tell which way Rane went?” She lifted a hand and wished for a light, and felt the minute pull of wild magic as a bright ball of light hovered over her palm.

  Soren glared at her, as if using wild magic was a direct insult to him, but he walked slowly around the clearing with her following behind, light held high, and eventually pointed down a narrow path. “Here.”

  “Then we follow.”

  He nodded, and they both turned back to the clearing to collect their things.

  Soren pulled his ripped shirt over his head, put on a clean one. She had to turn her eyes away from the way his ribs pressed against his skin.

  “Lead the way.” He stood slowly, shoving extra clothes into a bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He moved like an old man to join them on the path. It must be hunger and fatigue, because the apple had healed him of all his injuries.

  Sooty went first. The spheres of wild magic moved with them, sinuously twisting through the trees.

  Kayla was glad she had them as her allies.

  “Rane and I used to chase wild magic, in the beginning. But even actively looking for them, we only ever saw one at a time.” There was a sudden anger in his voice, and as she turned, he
grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to stop. He gestured away from the path. “Just how many do you see?” He gave her a little shake. “How many?”

  The strength and frustration in his hands made her afraid, and before she could think it through, her fingers glowed.

  Soren was suddenly five strides away, suspended in the air, his face white with shock.

  She looked, right to left, and saw perhaps twenty or more spheres on either side of her. An endless supply of power.

  “Don’t surprise me like that again.” She was shaking; exhaustion, nerves, adrenalin rolling through her in waves. She released him, and he dropped hard onto the ground.

  She watched him get warily to his feet.

  “Just what are you? What have you done to my brother?” Soren rubbed a hand over his face. “What is going on?”

  Kayla stared at him, the sparks on her fingertips fading away. She turned back to the path. “When I find out, I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Rane had run through the night.

  He’d stopped once, to drink and eat, and snatch two hours of sleep, then the enchantment forced him on. Now, as he reached the light-filled edges of the forest, he felt strangely removed from his body, as if exhaustion and hunger had pushed out his soul to make more room for themselves.

  He must be close. His burden was getting lighter and lighter every hour, as if he carried a sack full of seed on his shoulders, and with every step, more leaked out of a hole in the corner.

  But as he stepped away from the trees and looked down into a valley on the border of Gaynor and its northern neighbor, Klevan, he could see nothing.

  No grand castle, no tower, no sign of Eric at all.

  A wide strip of open field, lush and thick with summer grass, ran on either side of a river curling through the valley. Low bush and trees clung higher up the valley’s sides, until they blended with the solid wall of forest at the top.

  He walked down, weaving his way through the rocks and bushes, towards the river. It was approaching midday, and the air was hot, the sun strong now he no longer had the protective canopy of the trees to shield him.

  The river glinted, diamond-studded, in the sunlight, and Rane picked up his pace, eager for the feel of cold water on his skin.

  He’d kept silent as he’d walked down from the forest, out of habit and out of caution, and he slipped into the water quietly, too, leaving his pack and boots tucked against a rock.

  He submerged his body, sank down until the water covered his head. He was weightless, cool. The water tugged at his clothes, soaking the stains and dirt of days in the forest off him.

  The current had pulled him downstream, spun him round, and he rose up, slowly, reluctantly, anchoring his feet on the stony riverbed. He surfaced, facing the way he’d come, and as he blinked the water from his eyes, he saw someone…something…leaning over his pack.

  He froze, letting the water pull him into the shadow of the river bank, sinking down as low as he could. He wished for his moonstone, feeling its loss like a knife cut.

  Whatever creature was rifling through his things, it had thin limbs, a barrel body and knobbly head, and stood perhaps head and shoulders taller than himself. Its skin was a turnip-like shade of purple.

  It muttered something over and over in a soft voice, then turned its head, sharply, down river.

  Rane held his breath. It seemed to be looking straight at him. Another moment ticked by, and then it turned back to the pack, lifted out a piece of dried meat and gnawed on it, loudly and appreciatively.

  Rane pulled out his knife. Began to move against the current, staying close to the river bank. There was an overhang of bushes between himself and the creature, and when he reached it, he pulled himself up behind the cover of foliage, water streaming off him.

  He edged around the bush, knife raised.

  The creature had gone.

  He straightened from his crouch, cautious and wary, his eyes going to the river.

  Something grabbed him from behind, and he let out a shout that echoed up the valley. He flung his arm back and up, knife blade gleaming bright blue.

  “Shh. Shh. Ow!”

  His brain registered the shushing and his hand tried to pull back from the stab.

  The creature let go of him, releasing his hold as if he were a scorpion and Rane rolled, coming up with blade ready.

  The creature stepped back, nursing its arm and watching him with accusing eyes.

  “Sorry.” He slammed the blade back in its sheath. “I’m sorry. I thought you were attacking me.” He took a step closer and the thing drew back, holding its arm as far from him as it could.

  “I’m really sorry. I have bandages in my pack, let me help you.” He didn’t wait for an answer, he leant over and grabbed his bag, unfastening a strap and pulling out neat white bandages and ointment. Gaynor Castle’s doctor had packed them, in case Kayla was scratched or hurt. He’d left most of them with her, but had taken a few for himself.

  He held out his hand, and the creature watched him, its huge eyes unblinking. The irises were a pale yellow, almost gold, startling against the purple skin.

  “Come. Please.” He held up the bandages. “I’ll bind it.”

  The creature gave a sniff, then gingerly extended its arm. The cut was deep, and Rane reached out his hand, took the arm gently.

  The creature flinched at his touch.

  “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.” He applied the salve to skin that was soft and crinkled under his fingertips. He wrapped the bandage tight.

  He was so close to the creature, he smelled the dried meat it had taken from his pack on its breath, and the wet stone smell of the river. “What is your name?”

  It twisted its arm this way and that, admiring the bandage. Then it smiled, and Rane had to force himself not to jerk back. Its teeth were sharp, the canines long, like a wolf’s. “Shh.” It lifted a long finger to its lips, then pointed down the valley. “Nasty, there.”

  “A nasty man? A nasty place?” Rane raised a hand to block the glare of midday sun, but he could see nothing.

  “Hidden.” It nodded. “Nasty man, nasty place.”

  “I have to go there.” Rane pulled his boots towards him and tugged them on. His clothes had already started to dry in the heat, but in places they clung to him, damp and cool. He shivered as a light breeze blew down the valley.

  “No, no, no, no, no.” It clicked its tongue. “Nasty.”

  “I know it’s nasty. Believe me, I know.” Rane picked up his pack, delving around for another stick of dried meat. He held it out. “I still have to go. Will you show me?”

  The thing shook its head, lifted a leg and pointed to a deep scar running from thigh to knee. “Nasty.” It bared its teeth.

  “I understand.” Rane kept holding out the meat, and eventually, tentatively, it took the gift. “Sorry I cut you.” He took out a spare bandage and the ointment, held them out as well.

  The thing took them with delight, chortling and cradling them to its body.

  Its face fell as Rane began walking in the direction it had pointed. “No. No.”

  Rane turned. “I have to.”

  It took a step towards him, then halted. “Bye, bye.” It waved, its voice forlorn.

  Rane returned the wave, then headed towards the open space where Eric’s castle must be.

  When he looked over his shoulder, it was still there, its hand raised in a salute. Whatever it was, it knew this place, knew Eric, even better than he did. And it did not think he would be coming back.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  There was something at the far end of the valley. Rane moved his head one way, then the other, trying to pin it down. Elusive as a shadow, it seems to always be on the move.

  He came at it at an angle, circled it, rather than approaching it straight on, and it disappeared completely. Then, as he tightened the circle, slanted in, he felt the first cool touches of a mist on his face, and suddenly he was in a white f
og, moisture beading his clothes and his face, clinging to his hair.

  The quiet meadow sounds faded, the rush of the river, the rustle of grass. Silence took hold, squeezing everything else out, rendering him deaf and blind.

  He stumbled, disoriented, and caught movement—fast, dark, furtive. Something ran across his path.

  He crouched, lowering his bags quietly to the ground, his knife already out, his thumb just over the dragon.

  He moved sideways, still low to the ground, deeper into the mist. Something came at him again, the fog swirling and eddying around it as it ran straight for where he had been.

  He heard a grunt of anger, then a growl, and every hair on the back of his neck lifted.

  Whatever hunted him, it was not human.

  He was so close to it, he could smell it, the cold, black smell of dark lakes far below ground.

  Eric had dug deep to find this guard dog.

  It went very still, the moment stretching out. He could feel it listening, and then it sniffed the air.

  Rane tensed, waiting for it to come to him. Felt the moment it turned his way, nostrils flared. He rose from his crouch, knees still bent, ready.

  It sprang, silent, and as it leapt, Rane brought his thumb down on the dragon. The blade lengthened to sword-length and the creature screamed, howled, as the tip slid into its flesh. It thrashed against the pain, and Rane’s arms were wrenched as it fought the knife.

  He hauled back, pulling the knife out and up. He swung it across where he thought the throat was, and with a gurgle, the beast fell.

  Rane stepped closer, crouched beside it, and the fog cleared a little. It was a grindylow. It lay dead, its shaggy green hair matted, its mouth drawn back in a rigid snarl.

  He’d only seen one once, when he was twelve, by a stream. The grindylow had risen from the dark, weed-clogged water, hands tipped with sharp nails, clawing for him. He’d leapt back, run from it, and it had not pursued him.

  But this was no woodland stream grindylow. This one had a dark, almost black-green pelt, and it was huge.

  But more surprising, it was far from any stream. The river was behind Rane. The grindylow had approached from the front. What water source had it come from?