by K. A. Linde
“I know, but I can only feel my magic in life-or-death situations. I reach for it, like I did with the Indres, but it’s just a flutter, like a butterfly in my stomach. Then, it’s gone.”
Avoca stared at her with wide eyes. “Have you ever been able to reach them without your life being in danger?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Well then, this will not be of much use,” Avoca grumbled with a sigh. She sank to the moss-carpeted forest floor and set the book down next to her. “Sit.”
Cyrene did as instructed. “Why won’t the book help me?”
“Because you are blocked.”
“Oh,” Cyrene whispered. “But how do you know it won’t help with that?”
“Because, when Doma ruled the world in our distant past, they did not have blocks. It was not heard of, just as it is not presently heard of in Leif society. I fear your block comes from the corruption of Byern.”
Cyrene furrowed her brow. “What exactly does that mean?”
“The history lesson will be for another day, but I suspect it is because you grew up in a world without magic and in a world that does not believe in magic. If you do not believe you can do magic, Cyrene, then you will never truly harness your powers.”
“Okay. So…I just have to believe in myself, and then it’ll happen?”
Avoca smiled. “Let’s hope that will suffice. First, let’s do some basic meditation lessons to get yourself in tune with the elements. While Doma magic is more inherent, as you are drawing from your own body, you can access the elements, and in fact, it will help you when you feel your own core running on empty. You never want to weaken yourself beyond what you are capable of holding.”
“And how will I know that?”
“With a lot of time, practice, and patience.”
“Great,” she grumbled. “My specialties.”
“Now, enough talking. Close your eyes, and clear your mind. Think about your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Cyrene breathed deeply as Avoca spoke to her, “Yes, that’s good. Now, empty your mind of all your worries and concerns, of your mission, of your friends and your home. You are one.”
Her voice was gentle and soothing, and Cyrene found herself drifting in the emptiness of her being.
“Now, sense the river beside you.”
Cyrene started out of her trance and opened her eyes. “What do you mean, sense the river?”
Avoca sighed heavily. “Everything in existence has a pulse. You and I have a pulse. The forest has a pulse. The river has a pulse. Each of us Leifs has an element that calls to us more strongly than the others, but we can feel the pulse of each of the other three elements. I am strongest in earth and then water, as is common with my people in Eldora. Ceis’f senses air and then fire, as was common with his people in Aonia. We balance each other out in that regard.” Avoca smiled fondly.
“Wait…Aonia?” Cyrene asked.
Avoca cringed. “The Leif village Ceis’f is from.”
“He’s not from Eldora.”
“Cyrene,” Avoca reprimanded lightly. “Let’s concentrate on your powers. Ceis’f’s story is his own.”
“Okay,” Cyrene said. “What element am I strongest in?”
“I am going to attempt to find that out,” Avoca told her. “Now, start again. Shut your eyes, empty your mind, and remember your breathing. Now, I want you to reach out with your powers. Don’t try and well them inside you, as you last did. Just let that flutter of butterflies brush against you. Don’t try to guide it. Let it guide you. Just reach out and sense the pulse of the river.”
Cyrene emptied herself of everything, fully giving herself over to her meditation. Then, she felt for her powers buried deep within her. She let it guide her instead of forcing the magic to the surface. She tried reaching out with it and sensing the pulse of the river. But it just didn’t work.
She opened her eyes again in frustration. “Nothing is happening.”
“Try a different element. Find the one that calls to you. It will make itself known.” Avoca dug her fingers into the earth with pleasure. “Let me try to explain. Earth sounds like a drumbeat, low and distant but constant. Water sounds like a wave crashing, rhythmic and enticing. Air sounds like a whistle, harmonic like a bird’s song. Fire is the hardest for most. Its pulse is a heartbeat that practically sizzles with the force of the flame. Now, try once more and let the energy find you.”
Cyrene got to work again. She reached her meditative state quicker, and instead of concentrating on water, she reached for earth. Her fingers were buried in it. The slightest flicker of power washed through her and then disappeared as quickly.
By the time she focused on air, she was too frustrated to concentrate.
Avoca made her release all her anger and try again.
And again.
They tried until the sun had completely disappeared, and they had to precariously pick their way back to camp through the woods by moonlight.
Cyrene felt defeated. She’d had no luck. Her powers never surfaced, and the energy never flowed through her. She certainly hadn’t heard any pulse, other than the one signaling she was getting a headache.
“Still nothing,” Cyrene said. “I can’t hear anything.”
“You are very strong. You would not have been able to kill the Indres with the force-field burst otherwise. You just need more practice.”
“A force-field what?”
Avoca sighed. “You used a force-field burst, which harnesses energy into an offensive blast that can be powerful enough to take out your enemy or tear down a mountain. It’s very powerful, very difficult magic. Can you think about how you did it?”
Cyrene felt helpless. “It was either I died or they did, so my body just reacted. It happened when I killed a Braj in Albion.”
“A Braj?” Avoca asked, her voice raising an octave. “Why did you not tell me of a Braj? They are deadly assassins. More will come after you. We should have been on the lookout this entire time.”
“I know. Orden told me about them.”
“That man seems to know an awful lot about everything,” Avoca said.
“Indeed. He is a mystery.”
The pair made it back to the camp and stopped before entering. Avoca stayed silent for a minute as she stared at the ever-darkening sky. “Let me worry about the Braj. You focus on releasing the block from your powers. We will continue to do this every night until you get past it and find your elemental pulse.” She turned her gaze back to Cyrene and smiled a rare beautiful smile. “Just try to find it in yourself to accept the power. It is the life force of the world, and the Creator has entrusted us with it. The least you can do is use it.”
And so Cyrene spent the next day in her saddle, reaching for her powers. By midday, she was exhausted, had a terrible headache, and was beyond irritated. She snapped at everyone who spoke to her. All she wanted to do was find a way to reach her magic. If I can make this force-field burst that Avoca had talked about, how come I can’t duplicate it? How come I can’t even feel my magic?
They reached Gildan at nightfall. Orden got them two rooms at an inn on the outskirts of town. They would buy and trade for supplies in the morning, but until then, Avoca wanted to work with Cyrene to find a way to get past her block.
They spent half the night in the woods but to no avail. When they made it back to the inn, Cyrene could do nothing but collapse into a fitful slumber where she dreamed of Indres and Braj attacking her, which only forced her awake repeatedly.
Orden and Ahlvie completed the shopping before mid-morning. After waking, Cyrene took her time in a long bath, knowing she would not have another for a while, and she tried to listen to the pulse of the water. All she felt was it getting colder and colder.
She dried off and returned to her chamber to find new Aurumian dresses in a cheap itchy wool. Both were brown, and while they were of lighter material than the dresses she had packed,
they would have to do if she wanted to fit in. The skirts were fuller, the waistline tighter, and the sleeves were large and voluminous at the shoulders before tightening around her wrists.
Aurum was a three-week ride from the northern town of Gildan. Orden and Ceis’f alternated with scouting shifts, and they continued their routine for watches at night.
Most nights, Avoca would haul Cyrene away from camp and spend an hour or two thinking of ways for her to figure out her powers. But, if they were still there, neither girl could find a way to access them.
On nights when they were most annoyed with the fact that they weren’t getting anywhere, they would return to the men. Nearly two weeks into their journey, Cyrene and Avoca came back early to camp to find Ahlvie instructing Ceis’f on a dice game.
Cyrene warily eyed him. “Dice? What are you wagering?”
When they had been in Albion, Ahlvie had gotten them into trouble by wagering Cyrene as his wife in a dice game with a tavern owner, who hadn’t taken too kindly to losing.
“No worries, Cyrene. Just coin,” he said with a wink. “We’re playing All the King’s Men.”
“Don’t let him steal all your money, Ceis’f,” Cyrene warned. “He’s a dirty cheat.”
Ceis’f laughed callously. “I’d like to see him try. Besides, I’ve played this game before many years ago. It was called by a different name in my village—the Serpent’s Luck.”
And, to Cyrene’s shock, the game was evenly matched. By the end of the first game, the two men were playing jovially together. Ahlvie was reminiscing about stealing a man’s money right out from under his nose at a tavern, and Ceis’f seemed to forget that he was enjoying himself with humans for a time. Orden even joined in on the game and lost some coins to the two of them.
Cyrene just hoped the good cheer of their journey would last once they reached Aurum. Much depended on what happened once they arrived in the capital city.
All day, on the last leg of their cross-country journey, Aurum stood out like a beacon on the horizon. The giant stone castle stood atop a hill, overlooking the red, cream, and brown buildings of the seaside city. Five large lanes cut into the city and went down to the central port, which was filled, day and night, with hundreds of ships of various shapes and sizes from all around the world.
Halfway through the day, Orden and Ceis’f returned from scouting and informed the rest of the party that the road seemed to be clear of Royal Guard. Cyrene was glad for that, but she didn’t think it put them out of harm’s way. If Kael hadn’t made it to Aurum yet, there was still time for him to get there.
By mutual assent, they split the group up when they entered and then reconvened at The Lively Dagger, an inn that Orden swore had higher repute than the name suggested. Orden disappeared first, and after an hour, Cyrene set out with Ceis’f. She wished that she could have been paired with Ahlvie or Avoca, but she and Ahlvie couldn’t be seen together, and law dictated that she had to be with a man.
A cool breeze was blowing in from the Lakonia Ocean, shepherding in the first cold weather of the season. In Byern, snow would already be blanketing the mountains, and in a few weeks, it would be down in the city. It would be another month before the temperature dropped that low in Aurum.
Cyrene tried not to stare too obviously at the beautiful new city she was in. She felt more at home in a burgeoning metropolis than in the country, but this was so very different than her home. In fact, she was surprised to discover that the city itself was larger than the Byern capital. Byern was sequestered between the Taken Mountains and the Keylani River, which halted outward growth. Aurum had no such limitations and had grown up and out around the marina and the castle.
The streets were packed with people and bustling with trade merchants. She caught a glimpse of three different men in traditional Eleysian garb as well as a pair scantily clad in Biencan silks, a Carharan fur trader, and even a Tiekan man in a tight-fit hat that flopped off one side of his head.
Finally, Ceis’f turned down a street and stood face-to-face with The Lively Dagger, a run-down inn that looked every bit as awful as Cyrene had imagined. She wasn’t sure how Orden had thought that this was a reputable location.
“Perhaps we should find another inn. One a bit more refined,” Cyrene suggested.
“Is that an order…my lady?” Ceis’f asked with a bite to his tone.
“No.” Cyrene sighed. “We’ll stay here.”
Cyrene entered the inn with Ceis’f on her heels. It was mostly empty, save for a few foul-looking men at one table and a handful of busty serving girls. A large woman in an oversize dress with puffy sleeves and an apron over top strode right up to them. Her brown hair was pulled loosely off of her sweaty red face. She gave Cyrene a once-over, seemed to deem her unworthy, and then turned to Ceis’f, as if Cyrene wasn’t standing right in front of him.
“Can I help you, good sir?” she asked. She dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief and gave him a toothy smile.
“Yes. We’re here for a room,” Ceis’f said.
Somehow, every word out of his mouth sounded like he was trying to snap her head off. She looked affronted by it, and Ceis’f didn’t even seem to notice.
“Madam LaRoux, at your service,” she said, suspiciously eyeing the pair.
“I’m Haenah, and this is Roran,” Cyrene told her when Ceis’f didn’t speak up. “We’re just here for a couple of weeks before the cold sets in.”
It was the set answer that Orden had instructed them to give. He had said that the madam of the inn would understand.
Madam LaRoux gave them a knowing smile with a wicked glint in her eye. “Perfect timing then. We have a lot of travelers coming in for the festival season. Come this way, and I’ll show you to your rooms.”
They were whisked up to the second floor and to the last room on the left. Madam LaRoux knocked twice, paused, and then a third time before opening the door and ushering them inside. Once they were inside, she shut the door in a hurry, turned to face the room, and planted her hands on her hips.
“Master Dain!” she said in a scolding tone. “You did not tell me that you were harboring fugitives. You mean to keep this girl in my inn?”
“Laurel, Laurel, Laurel,” Orden said. He stood up from a hard wooden chair where he had been gazing out the window, smoking his pipe. “This girl is not a fugitive. She is a guest.”
“I have been around long enough to know when you are weaving a story, and I’ll not fall for it. We’ve worked together for too long. She has to go.”
“Laurel, you know how the Affiliate program is in Byern,” Orden said encouragingly.
Cyrene bristled at the comment.
“I know. I know you said that, but I didn’t think you meant…her,” Madam LaRoux said, glancing anxiously at Cyrene.
“We won’t be staying too long, and we’ll keep your establishment out of trouble. I assure you, Laurel,” Orden said. “She is fleeing injustice, and you would be doing us all a great service by helping.”
Madam LaRoux sighed heavily and then nodded. “All right, all right. You’ll owe me though, Dain.”
“I am in your debt.”
She seemed to accept this before leaving just as quickly as she’d come.
“Injustice?” Cyrene asked at the same time as Ceis’f asked, “You trust her?”
Orden folded his arms. “I trust her wholeheartedly. I’ve been working with her for over fifteen years, and she would never tell anyone that you are here. As for the injustice,” he said, turning his eyes on Cyrene, “surely, you know that the conditions in Byern are not highly favored in the rest of the world.”
“Not highly favored?” Ceis’f asked in disgust. “They’re despicable.”
“I don’t understand why there are such problems with how Byern runs its affairs,” she said stiffly. “Aurum women cannot even walk around the city by themselves without getting manhandled and arrested.”
“You see what you were raised to see,” Orden said. “Affiliates an
d High Order are sent to other countries as ambassadors—not to learn about foreign cultures, but to force an unwanted Class system on other rulers. Eleysia has banned all trade with Byern and refuses access to Affiliates and High Order who wish to come to their lands seeking change.
“And, while we’re on the matter, Aurum is far from degrading to women. Men and women work together, especially here in the capital. The wives make nearly all of the decisions for the household and hold significant power. Madam LaRoux is a supreme example, but I’ve been told that even Queen Jesalyn is effectively ruling over her husband, King Creighton Iolair. Just because it is different than what you know does not make it wrong.”
“I…I didn’t know about all of that,” Cyrene said. Uncertainty hit her head-on for the first time.
She remembered the conversation she, Maelia, and Ahlvie had had with Captain De la Mora when attempting to escape Albion. He had refused them passage onto his ship.
“I have no room for First Class passengers seeking to infiltrate my beloved country.”
Is this what he had meant? Had other Affiliates and High Order been trying to infiltrate Eleysia and enact change?
“But how exactly was I supposed to know all of this? No one told me about the problems with Eleysia. The only problem I realized was that Eleysian vessels wouldn’t take me on their ship, so I walked halfway across the world to try to get there. As for Aurum, I was apprehended in Strat and almost arrested in public for falling. You two were the ones who said how dangerous it was for women to be out, alone, in public. I’m not sure what other assumption I was to draw from that.”
“Well, now, you know,” Orden said. He shifted past her and to the door. “Ceis’f, we’re in the room next door.”
Orden yanked open the door and strode out of the room with Ceis’f on his heels.
“What is going on here?” Avoca asked, striding purposely down the hall in front of Madam LaRoux.
Orden just kept walking without a word.
“Nothing,” Cyrene said finally.
Avoca’s lips thinned out as she stared at Cyrene with all-knowing blue eyes.