New Title 1

by K. M. Shea

  He means we have gotten complacent. If we don’t see the slaughter, it is easy for us to brush it off. Rakel thought.

  “That is all I have to say. Thank you.” Halvor bowed stiffly.

  The meeting adjourned; the crowd began to disperse. Rakel, however, remained sitting, contemplating Halvor’s words.

  “Is everything alright?” Farrin asked. His eyebrows were raised in a subtle expression of concern, and he brushed her shoulder with his fingers.

  “Yes, it’s just…we’re winning.”

  Farrin nodded.

  “But it doesn’t feel like it. Towns are razed; villagers are slaughtered…” She trailed off.

  “Life is far more complex than humanity would want. Just because you win doesn’t mean everything will turn out well,” Farrin said.

  Remembering her talk with Kai, Rakel said, “But there are still things worth fighting for.”

  “Of course,” he agreed. “Unfortunately, Tenebris lacks mercy and will do his best to bring as much damage upon Verglas as possible even as he loses.”

  Recalling the way he had very obviously wounded Farrin when Farrin was still in his services, Rakel pressed her lips together. “He’s searching for the mirror. That’s why he sent the teams north.”

  “Presumably.”

  “How many know about the mirror?” she asked.

  “Of the Chosen? Not many. But Tenebris was not the only one to learn of it.”

  “You mean groups besides the Chosen know of its existence?” Rakel asked.

  “Assumedly,” Farrin said. “I cannot say for sure, but I don’t believe he discovered its existence by happenstance. Tenebris is too purposeful for that.”

  Rakel fell silent and stared at her hands.

  Farrin placed his hand on top of hers. “I know it feels hopeless, and the knowledge of the slaughter he has committed is horrible, but you have to remember what you’re saving your people from. You cannot allow yourself to take responsibility for his actions. You should be proud of all you have accomplished, Rakel.”

  He squeezed her hand. Without thinking, Rakel repositioned her palm so their hands were intertwined, drawing strength from the connection. “Thank you, Farrin.” She drew back her shoulders and smiled at him. “It can be difficult to remember what we’re doing is right.”

  Farrin, who had been admiring their hands, raised his eyes. “You are burdened with many responsibilities, but you have done well. Even before I sided with you, I admired you for your loyalty and courage.”

  “I’ll have to be the one to face Tenebris, won’t I?” Rakel asked, her dread building.

  “Not necessarily. Liv’s powers might prove to be more fatal to him.”

  Rakel looked across the room where the female magic user smiled brightly at one of Farrin’s underlings. “I don’t think I could ask her to.”

  “She would do it,” Farrin said.

  “Yes,” Rakel said. “She’s plunged headfirst into his magic to save others. Though she feels inadequate, she has courage like I haven’t seen…but…”

  Her magic isn’t meant to hurt others. And mine…mine is meant to protect. But how can I face him and win? If I took his life, wouldn’t that make me more like him?

  “We can find another way. As I recall, you’ve had an antipathy for killing since you started the resistance. No one will force you to change that stance. If you can capture him in ice, I can help you,” Farrin said.

  Rakel nodded. She could feel his heat leaking into her through their joined hands. Though it felt a little strange, it was oddly relaxing. She squeezed his hand, released it, and then stood. “I will think on it.”

  “Don’t take too much of this burden on your shoulders,” Farrin warned.

  Rakel smiled. “I know. Come—Crow has Bunny cornered. We should grab him lest she reacts violently. Soon, your healer won’t be able to fix his nose anymore.”

  Farrin stood and glided behind her. “As you wish.”

  The door to the mess hall creaked open. Out of the corner of her eye, Rakel saw Gerta—her cheeks wet with tears—peer inside. “Farrin, could you see to Crow and Bunny?” Rakel asked.

  Farrin followed her gaze. “Of course.” He tenderly tucked a tendril of her white hair behind her ear. Though he didn’t say anything more, his eyes were bright with longing, and he brushed Rakel’s cheek with a finger.

  The gesture made warmth bloom on Rakel’s face, and she involuntarily leaned toward his touch. I love him. She ruthlessly pushed the thought down. Then she pulled her face away to give Farrin a business-like nod, raised her chin, and focused on Gerta—grateful for the distraction.

  She heard Farrin chuckle as she left him, but her mirth—and embarrassment—died away as she approached the little girl and crouched next to her. “What’s wrong, Gerta?”

  “Nothing,” Gerta said in a small voice.

  “Are you seeking out your grandmother?” Rakel asked. Hilda had attended the meeting to give the latest report from her contacts.

  “No,” Gerta said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Rakel drew the little girl aside so they wouldn’t block the door. “What would you like to talk about?”

  Gerta tugged on her worn skirt. “I want magic, too. Like Kai,” she blurted.

  Rakel blinked—that had been the last thing she had expected. Who—besides Phile—actually wants magic? “Why?”

  “I want to be special, too.”

  Rakel smiled. “Oh, Gerta, you are very special.”

  “How?”

  “Deep in your heart, you have such potential to love and cherish. That in itself is its own kind of magic.”

  “But it’s not the same,” Gerta said.

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t take powers or magic to do extraordinary things.”

  “Then what does it take?”

  “It’s something you already have: hope.” The answer spilled from her lips. “Hope never dies, and if you can cling to it, it’s the strongest kind of power there is.”

  “If I have hope, can I still be with Kai?”

  “Is that why you want magic?” Rakel asked.

  “Yes. The other village children said Kai is different because he has magic, and he’ll leave me.”

  Rakel chuckled. “Gerta, a little thing like magic couldn’t separate you two. As long as you have courage and hope, you’ll always be together.”

  Gerta nodded, her forehead wrinkling profusely—as if she was trying to commit Rakel’s words to memory. “Okay,” she said.

  Hilda approached the pair. “Greetings, Princess—why, Gerta! My dear, you’ve been crying. Come, let’s wash your eyes and get you something to eat.”

  The skip was back in Gerta’s steps. “Yes, Grandmother. Thank you, Princess!”

  “Of course. I’m honored you sought me out.” Rakel smiled as she watched the grandmother and granddaughter. Tenebris must be defeated—to protect the innocents. But…can I do it?

  True to Halvor’s word, they paused their journey south to view the razed village of Asker. Very little remained of the village—a few scorched corner posts, the bare skeleton of a cottage, and scattered refuse. The charred remains still smoldered, and everything was ashy gray from the sky to the slushy, half-melted snow. The air was choked with the scent of smoke and burnt earth, and even the wind sounded mournful as it howled through the meadow the small village used to occupy.

  Rakel slid from Frigid’s back and made her way towards the fallen village.

  “Princess, we can move on,” Oskar said. “You don’t need to see this.”

  “You’re right, I don’t need to,” Rakel said. “But I should.”

  Steinar joined her. “I agree.”

  Oskar looked back and forth between them, and then sighed. “As you wish.” He nodded to Farrin—who moved behind them like a black shadow.

  The village had been little more than an outpost. Judging by the ruin, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen buildings. “This is evil,” Rakel said as they walked p
ast the charred remains of a broken chimney.

  “Yes,” Steinar said. “So remember it well. We don’t want to let this happen to Verglas again.”

  “There will always be darkness, Sire,” Farrin said as he swept his eyes across the village. “What’s more important is remembering what hope is.”

  Rakel glanced up at Farrin, pleasantly surprised by his unusually optimistic outlook. He’s changing—for the better. He’s losing the bleakness he used to wear.

  Steinar stared at his soaked boots. “Yes.”

  A board creaked, and Rakel saw an archer step out of the trees, his bow nocked. “Attack—it’s an attack!” she shouted. She lunged in front of her brother and raised a shield of ice, blocking the arrow.

  “Are they mercenaries?” Steinar asked.

  The arrow exploded into fire.

  Rakel doused the arrow with ice. “No, magic users.”

  Farrin ran at the archer, reflected another fiery arrow, then pounced on him and brained him with the hilt of his sword. The archer flopped to the ground like a fish, and Farrin whirled around and shouted. “He’s one of Kavon’s—the colonel of the Third Regiment. Be on your guard: Kavon is an illusionist.”

  Hearing their shouts, the Verglas troops rallied, falling into formation and storming towards them.

  Snarling wolves burst out of the woods, launching themselves at the soldiers. Rakel tried to cage the wolves, but they were spread out and attacked purposefully, preying upon soldiers past the front lines, making them harder to capture. Above their snaps and growls, Rakel could hear…flute music?

  “It’s Judoc,” Bunny shouted. “He can control animals with his flute music. He’ll be hiding in the trees.” She snarled and transformed into a snow bear.

  “Can he control you then?” Crow asked as he stood back to back with Knut and Snorri and beat off a wolf.

  Bunny roared and slammed into a wolf, sending it sprawling.

  “That would be a no,” Knut said.

  Snorri moved away from his companions and ran for the forest, disappearing when he reached the trees’ shadows.

  Snorri will find Judoc, but how do we take care of these wolves?

  “Princess, raise an ice wall and try to funnel the wolves to Bunny, Phile, ’n me,” Dryden shouted. She clasped her hands together to create a joint fist and slammed it into a wolf—throwing it halfway across the destroyed village.

  Rakel raised a human-height wall—giving Dryden a surface against which to place her back—and added two slanted walls so the wolves could be guided straight to them.

  “Rakel,” Steinar said. “The soldiers.”

  Some of the Verglas soldiers were attempting to herd the wolves to Bunny, Phile, and Dryden; others were facing two new magic users who entered the fray.

  The first was a boy straddling the uncomfortable age between boy and man. He was short and scruffy but wore an expression of determination. His companion was an older woman who wore a belt filled with vials. Behind them—standing as tall as a small tree—was a moving sculpture of clay and sand, vaguely human in shape. Four sculptures of similar shape—but rising only knee-high—scurried around them.

  “Noe and Constanza,” Farrin said, appearing at Rakel’s elbow with a gust of wind. “The boy, Noe, builds golems and controls them. The bigger ones are slow movers but heavy hitters and hard to kill. The little guys are less powerful, but fast.”

  “And the woman?” Rakel pulled magic to her fingertips as Knut leaped out of the way when the biggest golem tried to smack him.

  “She’s an alchemist. Those vials on her belts are potions—and each one does a different thing. Stay out of throwing range.”

  Rakel nodded and created a cloud of ice swords. “Get back!” she shouted at the soldiers. Seeing what hovered over their heads, they scrambled away.

  Rakel snapped her fingers, and the frosty weapons rained down on the two magic users, disturbing plumes of smoke and raising clouds of ash.

  When the air cleared again, it revealed the uninjured magic users, who had been shielded by the clay creatures—which closely resembled pin cushions.

  Unfortunately, the swords didn’t seem to affect the creatures at all. The creatures shook, and the swords fell off them, cracking when they fell to the ground.

  “They’re sandy. The easiest way to defeat them is to get them wet, or they’ll keep oozing everywhere,” Farrin said.

  “It’s a shame we sent Bluff on with the main group, but I can handle it. I’ll just freeze them in a block,” Rakel said.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” said an airy, aristocratic voice.

  Rakel and Farrin spun around to find a handsome man—whose pleasant face was ruined by his smug smirk—lingering at the boundary of the village. He wore the black and crimson Chosen uniform, and based on the similar braiding and markings to Farrin’s old uniform, Rakel guessed he was probably a colonel.

  “Kavon.” Farrin flashed the short distance to the man. He swung his sword at him, but another man jumped in front of him, parrying the blow.

  Rakel moved to help but heard the alchemist woman laugh. She swung around and raised a shell of ice to protect two soldiers from her assault.

  Steinar pointed to Farrin’s opponent. “He manipulates air.”

  “How do you know?” Rakel asked.

  “Look at his hair—it’s blowing like he’s in a gale storm, though we have barely a breeze. It’s why Farrin hasn’t nailed him yet.”

  Farrin moved faster than the new magic user, but his opponent seemed to have some kind of shield that kept Farrin from outright stabbing him. Whenever Farrin tried to move around him to reach Kavon—who arrogantly preened behind the air-channeling magic user—he slid in between them and pushed Farrin back.

  “Did you hear everything Farrin said?” Rakel asked.

  “Yes,” Steinar said. “You want me to relay the information to Halvor?”

  Rakel created a sword of ice for herself. “Please. Go, I’ll cover you.”

  Steinar squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, then plunged into the chaos of the battle.

  Keeping her focus on her brother, Rakel threw spikes of ice in his trail to keep wolves from pouncing on him. She rained needle-thin icicles on two of the dirt and sand sculptures to keep them distracted. When Steinar had almost reached Halvor, the alchemist stepped towards him, raising her hand to throw a small vial at him.

  Rakel created a wall of ice to protect him, but Eydìs yanked the woman’s hand backwards with a lasso of twine.

  “We’ve got her, Princess.” Tollak strolled up to the alchemist and studied her through a round lens that magnified the size of his eye. He plucked the vial from the woman’s grasp, and dodged her when she struck out with a dagger in her free hand.

  “Here, Frodi. You should try heating this.” Tollak held up the potion.

  “We’re in the middle of a battle, old man. This isn’t the time to satisfy your curiosity,” Frodi snarled.

  Rakel let a smile bud on her lips and relaxed when she saw Steinar deep in discussion with Halvor.

  I think I’ll start with helping the soldiers—and possibly Farrin if I can split my attention. Rakel turned towards the dirt monsters, grimacing when she tapped her magic and reached for the snow in the area.

  As the temperatures had continued to rise, the snow melted and created a slushy mess. She never liked dealing with slush—it made everything cold and achy and squelched through any cracked surface—and the ash from the destruction made manipulating it feel even more gritty and unpleasant than usual. Still, Farrin said I should get them wet.

  Rakel raised her fingers, and a soggy snow-and-slush-drift poured over one of the smaller golems like an icy wave. Wet, the creature was considerably slowed down, making it easy for her to scoop it up with ice and encase it in a thick coating, immobilizing it.

  The creation wiggled in its casing, but it couldn’t break out.

  Good. Rakel set her eyes on another one of the sculptures�
�this one was already contained by several Verglas troops who had surrounded it with their enchanted shields—thanks to Tollak.

  Rakel shuddered in revulsion as the chunky feeling of slush washed over her when she reached for a nearby mound of snow.

  “Got you!” A man who would have looked at home with Pordis among a merchant caravan clasped her wrist.

  Rakel reflexively swung around and threw her magic outwards, creating a carpet of dagger-sharp ice slivers.

  The ice made the man jump. “No you don’t!” he said.

  Something pricked her wrist, and Rakel felt her magic start oozing out of her. It didn’t curl around her as it normally would; instead it was diverted—like aqueducts from a river.

  “Careful, Rakel, that one drains magic.” Dryden shouted from her den of wolves. “He’ll suck you dry!”

  Her friendly-looking captor smiled. “It’s true,” he said cheerfully. “I’m like a leech.” He must have pulled harder, for Rakel felt a little more of her magic trickle away.

  In spite of the chaos of the battle, she felt confused. Why is he so smug? Should it matter if he takes some of my magic? Will he use it against me?

  Rakel was still trying to decide how to react as she raised an ice cage around three wolves, locking them inside.

  “Careful, Princess,” the magic-drainer said. “I don’t want to hurt you. If you keep using your magic, I can’t promise I won’t tap you dry.”

  “What does that even mean?” Rakel asked.

  “It means you won’t have a drop of magic left—as if you’ve scraped the bottom of your abilities—and then you’ll be helpless. So it’s best if you don’t struggle.”

  The bottom? What is he babbling about? I have never reached the limit of my abilities. The only time I ever felt boundaries to it was with the mirror, and then I could feel the magic left in all the ice structures I had built.

  Dryden drove her elbow into a wolf’s neck. “Frodi—Eydìs, someone’s gotta help the princess!”

  Phile snorted. “No, they don’t. Haven’t you seen what Rakel did to Bluff whenever the poor boy got it in his head to create a storm? In fact, I think we should back up. Who knows what she’ll do to him—or what Farrin will do when he realizes someone is touching her.”