“You’re a mage.” Jacquin’s words were a statement of fact, her voice even low.
“Yes.” Adrian couldn’t tell if Jacquin could even hear her, but she felt an overwhelming urge to answer, to be honest.
“A warmage. But not as you should be.”
Adrian’s brow furrowed. “I am as I’ve always been.”
“You’re confused. Tainted. Tied in knots no sword can sever.”
Adrian felt a cold sweat bead along her neck and hairline. How far could Jacquin delve into her life?
Jacquin rocked back slightly, a physical manifestation of an action in a dream. “You’re a Blue Sight.”
Adrian gasped in shame, instinctively trying to pull away, but Jacquin’s grip tightened and the wagon disappeared. Adrian opened her eyes in shock and her heart stopped. She was no longer in the desert, but deep in the ice fields of the Core, wrapped in the leathers and furs of her childhood.
She pulled herself off the ground, brushing feather-soft snow off her shoulders with thickly-gloved hands. She spun around, her long, silver braid flying behind her with the movement. She felt her cheeks and hair, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She was young again, barely an adolescent.
She looked up at the sky, the low-hanging, stark white clouds like a false ceiling over the entire plane. In the distance she could see the fortress of the Core, rising up like the tip of a massive, stone iceberg. The sky over the Core glowed with red smoke, rising up like a spiraling serpent.
“You remember this day.”
Adrian turned. Jacquin, still dressed in her dancer’s garb, stood in the middle of the snow like a desert goddess. Her feet left no mark in the ice as she walked.
“Yes.” Adrian’s voice was that of a woman, not the young girl she’d been, but it was still just as tainted with fear, breathless with pain. “You were supposed to read my future.”
“Your future is bound to this day.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Adrian growled through gritted teeth.
“Your vengeance will be your downfall.”
Adrian ran to Jacquin, but she always seemed a step further away. “Vengeance is all I have.”
Jacquin’s eyes filled with sorrow. “As long as you say it, it will be so.”
Fires lit around the base of the Core, a thousand tiny torches flaring to life. Panic blossomed to life in Adrian’s chest. “I want to go now.”
“The vision isn’t done.”
“This is my past! You have no right!”
“Jacquin can’t hear you. She is seeing your truth, but is not with you.”
“Who are you?”
“A manifestation of your connection.”
A deep purple plum swirled and evaporated, two tall, identical cloaked figures leading the mob of torches. Adrian…
Adrian’s skin went numb with fear, her eyes locked on Jacquin. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t know the truth.
Adrian ground her teeth balled her hands into fists, white balls of rippling lightning forming around her hands.
The manifestation of Jacquin was instantly before her, grabbing her arm in a crippling-tight grip. Adrian’s lifestone birthmark flared to life, burning deep, ember-red lines into her skin as the stone broke through her skin. “Blue Sights do not destroy.”
Adrian growled and threw the ball of lightning at the manifestation of Jacquin, instantly shattering the vision. Adrian’s eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet. The wagon spun and twisted as she fought to regain balance. Her heart and blood flipped and twisted beneath her skin, her magic a violent torrent of opposites, refusing to calm or blend.
Jacquin held her head in her hands, screaming as she covered her eyes, her fingers digging into scalp as she violently trembled.
“Adrian?!” Jacquin screamed. She slowly lowered her arms, a flame-red outline of Adrian’s lifestone tattoo rising to the surface of her right wrist like the welts of a brand. She turned to Adrian in terror and pain. “What’s happening?”
A primal panic gripped Adrian’s heart. This wasn’t right. Jacquin’s pain. The bonding. Jacquin had almost seen too much. If she had delved any further, they’d all be in danger.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian moaned, the words tearing from the depths of her heart as she fled the wagon.
“Adrian!” Jacquin screamed as she tried to crawl after her new bondmate, the name tearing from her throat as Adrian raced into the depths of the caravan.
Adrian didn’t turn, didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She had to keep Jacquin safe. She needed to hide until the barrier around Oasis was lifted, then she needed to leave. She’d find a way to break the bonding later.
Through sheer force of will, she cloaked herself in an illusion of shadow. For now, she had to stay away from Jacquin, no matter how much it hurt either of them.
Chapter Three
Rox glared out the window at the light shimmer of the magical force field doming Oasis. The new light of day glanced off the magical glow, creating tiny, rippling rainbows as the sunlight caught and refracted off the crystalline magical structure. It was quiet in the inn. The Circle and inn staff were still sleeping, resting and healing after fighting the changlings. They had nowhere to go until the barrier lifted anyway.
Fisk ran toward her, an apple clenched in his front paws. He offered it to her and she let out a soft breath of disappointment between her teeth. “We don’t steal unless it’s necessary, Fisk.”
The water ferret groused, racing up to sit beside her and bit into the apple himself. Rox grunted disapprovingly and made a mental note to pay the innkeeper for the piece of fruit later.
Rox sat draped across an empty window seat, bouncing her fingers off the wooden window frame. She was tense, every muscle in her body jumping and rebelling against the sudden feeling of entrapment.
“Feeling caged?”
Rox jumped at the sound of Calder’s voice as he sat at the table beside her. “Go back to bed, Calder.”
“And miss the chance at a private chat?”
“We’ve had enough of those lately.”
“The Twins won’t like this delay.”
“And that’s my concern why?”
“You led us here.”
“Any guide would have led you here.”
“Before or after distracting the Circle from the fact that they set an entire bounty of slaves free?”
Rox turned to Calder, fixing him with an even, lethal glare. “No loyal guide would set your slaves free.”
“Can we please stop lying to each other, Rox?”
Rox stood from the window seat, snapping her fingers for Fisk, who instantly dropped the remains of his breakfast to race up her arm to hide in her cloak. “I don’t think we ever started, Calder. I think we’ve both been perfectly clear about our intentions. And quite frankly, I find it exhausting. Excuse me.” Without another word, she turned on her heel, her boots striking sharply against the stone and tile floors as she strode out the front door of the inn and out into Oasis.
The rest of the town was just waking, preparing for a day not of trading and selling, but repairing damaged property and rebuilding lives. Teams of children were gathering around the oasis, gathering shredded leaves and downed trees clogging the pool. Men and women already sweating in the early-morning heat worked together to rebuild market stalls and doorways, piles of destroyed furniture shattered pottery sitting before every doorway. Much of it was still stained with blood.
Rox avoided their eyes, haunted and full of grief. She knew that look too well. She’d been keeping it from her own face for many monarcs.
In the distance she heard the steady beat of drum song, flutes and whistles being tuned and readied for song. The Tribe was preparing to greet the new day and the sounds drew Rox away from the solemn desert man town and the inn full of Circle raiders.
She jogged through the narrow streets of Oasis out toward the open sands that stretched between the town and the Tribe. She could see a dancers’ circle building
around the remnants of the funeral bonfire from the night before, still smoldering low, burning until there was nothing left to set ablaze.
She turned the last corner until the edge of Oasis and grunted as she slammed into another person. She fell to the ground in shock. She couldn’t see anyone, but she was certain she’d felt a human frame. Her eyes narrowed and she saw a shift in the shadows down a nearby alley and her tension turned to a primal thrill of the hunt. She saw the shadowy figure of the Circle Ghost, the mage in the desert, in the back of her mind. She sprang to her feet, drawing her knife. It must have followed them through the desert.
She pressed against the alley walls, staying a few steps behind the figure, stalking it through a series of alley ways deeper into Oasis. She carefully watched the mage move, its steps unsure and uneven. Something was obviously wrong. Rox wondered if it had been wounded during the Changling battle. It was certainly far from the confident mage who had pulled a sword on her in the desert.
The mage wove around to the back of Oasis, finally coming to a stop in a small, gated courtyard lined on two sides by the tall, stone Oasis walls and the south side of a large, stone warehouse, casting the courtyard in deep shadow. The courtyard had been recently swept, the debris of broken leaves from the nearby oasis and shattered stone laying in short piles on the courtyard tiles.
The mage paused in the center of the courtyard, digging through its cloak and producing a loaf of bread. Fisk peeked out of Rox’s hood, his nose pointing knowingly at the food. Rox glowered at him and tapped his nose, sending him skulking around her neck and deep into her pocket.
“I can see you. Even in the dark.” Rox hissed as she moved into the shadows of the courtyard, her eyes instantly adjusting to the dimmer light, betraying her prey. “You would have been safer in the light.” The mage spun, instantly crouching, unsheathing its sword. “I saw you walk. You’re hurt.” The mage silently raised its hand, a ball of fire consuming its fist. “And alert everyone in town of your presence? When you can’t escape?”
The mage’s hand lowered, but the flames burned as brightly as before. “What do you want?” The mage’s voice was distorted, rippling in pitch and tone, switching from male to female, masked by illusion magic.
Rox grinned. The mage was nervous; so different than the first time they’d met. “I protect the Circle. I don’t appreciate my perimeter being crossed.”
“You defend murderers and bandits?”
“For a fee.”
The mage snarled. “Mercenary.”
Rox gripped her knife harder. “You don’t have the right to judge me. You have no idea who I am.”
“You set the Circle slaves free.”
Rox hesitated, a cold heat in her chest. “You saw?”
“What kind of mercenary is willing to defend the Circle, then risks her job for a kidnapped child?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“You fought with a glass weapon before the changlings attacked.”
Rox rose up, her brow furrowing. She suddenly felt exposed, laid bare before the inquisitive, perceptive mage. “Can you read minds?”
The mage laughed, the dark sound reverberating and swelling through the courtyard. “Nervous?”
Rox fell back into her fighting stance, her knife drawn. “No.”
“Do the Twins know how little your loyalties lie with the Core?”
“Is there anything the Twins don’t know?”
“And you still think they’ll pay you?”
Rox’s stomach clenched as the mage spoke one of her greatest fears aloud. They had to honor their contract. Rox didn’t have any other options. “I protect the Circle.”
“You lost one already.”
Rox strode forward, anger burning through her veins, replacing every other emotion. “Come near them again and I’ll kill you.”
The mage glowed a faint red, its voice growing more primal. “The Circle is mine. Just like Gryert. Just like the Twins.”
Rox swung, her knife flying low, slicing for the mage’s waist. The mage dodged, the flame in its hand going out as it used both hands to swing its sword down at the smaller Rox. Rox twisted aside and grinned with teeth. The mage never fought with both hands in the desert.
“You’re injured. Do you really want to do this?”
The mage thrust again, her sword coming fast and changing directions in the last second, nearly catching Rox off guard. “I don’t need to be whole to deal with a Core thug.”
Rox blocked with her knife, absorbing the impact of the mage’s blow while deflecting the blade. “I’m not from the Core.”
They exchanged blows, Rox’s swift dagger strikes raining down on the mage, looking for any opening in the mage’s defense, while the mage’s strong, calculated strikes sent the small mercenary to her knees.
Rox drew a second, tiny dagger as slim as a finger from her boot and held the blade between her index and middle fingers as she punched, aiming up for the mage’s gut. The mage spotted her attack just in time, using her foot to kick Rox’s fist aside, stomping on her hand until the dagger fell free. The mage kicked the dagger away her foot flew again, striking Rox in the face, knocking her to her side.
The mage whipped its cloak, shrouding Rox momentarily in shadow. Rox dove, narrowly avoiding the concealed attack of the mage’s sword, and grabbing the mage’s ankles and sweeping its legs out from under it.
The mage fell back into a pile of debris, dust and leaves shifting and blowing aside as it landed, its sword flying to the side, crashing against the town wall. The mage hit the ground hard, landing on its back with an audible crash. It let out a moan of pain, the sound momentarily devoid of illusion and magic. The voice of an injured woman. Rox hesitated, the sound unexpectedly human.
The mage pushed hard off the ground, snarling in a desperate frenzy, its hand flying as a shock of lightning flew from its hand at Rox. Rox dodged, the lightning grazing her arm, sending a sharp jolt through her body, momentarily stopping her heart as she seized, her arm jumping involuntarily.
Rox charged, her knife hitting the floor in her frenzy as she attacked instead with her hands, straddling the mage, punching and clawing at the shadowed figure, her fists bursting with a satisfying bloom of pain and pressure as she connected with skin and bones. Her knuckles blossomed with bruises as her bare hands connected with loose traveler’s linens and skin, betraying the mage beneath the illusion.
She reached down and grabbed a sturdy piece of wood, raising it like a bludgeon, but the mage threw a wild punch at her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs and collapsing her waist, stunning her long enough for the mage to knock the wood from her hands.
The mage grabbed at her arms and legs, trying to throw her, but Rox was wild, out of her mind with bloodlust and growing with strength as her adrenaline rose. She grabbed wildly, her hands finding the mage’s neck, and she wrapped her hands like ropes around the mage’s throat.
Suddenly, a searing pain ripped through Rox’s hands, spreading up her arms and tearing through her entire frame. She shouted in surprise and pain, her hands burning as if on fire. She clenched her teeth in rage. A mage’s spell wouldn’t get the better of her. She squeezed harder, but her hands began to spasm out of her control, losing their grip on the mage’s throat.
To her shock, the mage arched back in pain beneath Rox, nearly bucking the mercenary to the courtyard ground, its head tipping back in a howl of pain. The shadow illusion shattered like glass, revealing a young woman nearly eight tenmoons younger than Rox, her cloak thrown back as she continued to writhe and scream, her fingers and heels digging into the courtyard stones, her striking silver hair splayed across the stones, framing her head in a mane of moonlight.
The courtyard smelled of burned flesh. A thin stream of blood trickled down the mage’s hand from beneath her sleeve, staining the courtyard stones.
Rox scrambled off the mage, every muscle cramping and trembling. “What’s happening?” Rox demanded.
The mag
e only wept and seized, her fingers tearing and scratching at her left wrist. Rox fought her own contractions as she grabbed for the mage’s shirt, tearing the sleeve free from the shoulder. She gasped in horror. The skin of the mage’s forearm was crimson and raw as if from a deep burn, a lump rising to the surface, splitting and tearing at her skin.
The mage lifted both of her arms and as the sleeve fell back on her right arm, Rox noticed a small, pale stone already embedded in her right wrist. The mage looked in horror between both arms, tears running down her cheeks, outlining her lips twisted in disgust.
Rox loosened the ties at her wrist and pulled back her leather sleeve. She fell back in shock. The pattern of a small stone, the same size as the one rising to the surface on the mage’s arm, was burning into her skin as well, leaving raised welts over darkened skin. She trembled. Rox knew nothing of magic, she had purposefully avoided crossing paths with it until she first met the Twins. Still, she recognized it when she saw it.
“What did you do?!” Rox screamed, grabbing the mage by the face, raising her arm before her. “What does this mean? Is it a curse?”
The mage grunted through clenched teeth, her skin damp with sweat, her eyes burning with rage. Rox slapped her, demanding her attention. “What is this?!”
The mage rolled hard, pushing Rox away. Stumbled to her feet, barely able to stand up straight as she groped for her sword along the city wall. Rox pushed herself to her feet as well, blocking the mage against the wall. “What did you do?”
“Don’t touch me!” the mage screamed, her voice desperate and terrified, the change in tone startling Rox to her senses. Rox subconsciously stumbled backward, her hands falling non-threateningly to her sides.
Rox heard the same sound, the same tone, in hundreds of men and women in the Circle raids and slave cells of the core. In an instant she knew the marks weren’t the work of the mage. The mage felt more violated and disgusted than Rox did.
Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3 Page 10