“I don't know if you could feel it,” Desmond said. “But they were so much like her, in every way. She fits in there. And once she figured that out, Nathaniel may have more that just this quest to deal with.”
“Do you agree with their way of life?” she asked. “With their use of magic?”
He exhaled.
“I don't agree with their threats, certainly. Nor do I agree with the fact that they don't see harm in killing. But everyone sees magic in different ways. And many differ from what our school teaches.”
“Like you did,” Sienna said.
“Like I did,” Desmond answered. “Now, there is no point on dwelling on such a fact when our time is running low. You are our translator, we should focus on finding out information, gaining the locals’ trust. How Nathaniel and Prada will communicate on the inside is no longer in our hands.”
“I do remember the last time we were on a quest to gain local trust,” Sienna said, quietly, looking up at him. It had been the last quest they were ever on. Desmond had ended their training together at the end of it, creating painful feelings between them for years. He had believed it was best, but every once in a while, he wondered if he had done the right thing. Could Sienna become more than she was and they simply gave up? Or was it truly the best choice for everyone?
“As do I,” he said quietly. “I think of it often. But that time is not like this, Sienna. Our lives are separate now, and together in the moment. Shall we live in the moment?”
“We shall,” she agreed, although her mind lingered back to Jeffro. Desmond strode a few feet ahead of her to check the names of buildings, looking for an inn where they could settle their rut sacks down.
Sienna took that opportunity to flex her fingers, drawing magic into them. She knew it was dangerous, but this was a dangerous planet, and she could not walk around unarmed. She needed to be strong and defend herself, and return to Devon. She was his only hope, if Prada chose not to help.
“Here's one,” Desmond called out to her, and she followed him quickly, snaking her magic back up her veins and hoping that he wouldn't notice. She fell into step behind him, exactly as she used to. This time, though, she was braver, stronger than the last time they had been looking for an inn. “Do you want to take the lead on this, then?”
“What's to take?” she asked, shifting into the local language as she asked for two rooms, a meal and a place to meet and greet locals, to have a good time. She was so fluent that Desmond had to take a moment to stop and think. He used to be half-fluent before, when he was working here, but Sienna somehow knew more in her short life than he had picked up in two years of immersion.
“There's a bar or two down the street,” Sienna said, when they were pointed up to their rooms. “We might be able to find out more. But we'd have to make sure to clearly blend in. I get the feeling they aren't too happy about outsiders.”
“You aren't too old to pretend to be training,” he said. “And I know their Academy well enough to be training you.”
Her eyes widened.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “Does it not seem…treasonous to do that?”
“Treasonous?” he asked. “Sienna, we aren't bound by any law anymore.”
“I know, but I still feel like we are bound by their rules. I at least want them to approve.”
“To approve?” He smiled. “Where did I go wrong with you?” he asked.
She laughed at that, leaning against the door frame.
“Nathaniel wants to sit on the Jurors in his old age.”
“Yes, I've yet to figure out where I went wrong with that one, too,” Desmond said. They fell into silence for a moment, until Sienna asked him a difficult question.
“Maestro, do you think that what they are doing is so wrong?”
“What do you mean?” He searched her face.
“We've always been on about the fact that there are different paths that we could take. That different paths are not necessarily wrong ones. They are violent, Maestro, yes, but we can be so violent, too.”
“Sienna,” Desmond said, softly. “You couldn't have joined them. I know you wanted to be a warrior, but your health would not have supported either path.”
“I know,” she said. “I know, I wasn't thinking that. But Prada…has Nathaniel told you all the issues he's had with her?”
“I wouldn't call them issues,” Desmond said. “Nathaniel is doing the very best he can with a difficult situation.”
“Like you did with me,” she said softly.
“Like we did with you,” he said. “You think this could be the best path for Prada?”
“She just…seems so much like them,” Sienna said. “At their core. Obviously, I don't support threatening to blow the rest of the galaxy to oblivion”
“I'm sure she'd appreciate hearing that from you,” Desmond said, without sarcasm. “Prada is not having the easiest time adapting when she's different from everyone else. You can understand that.”
“She doesn't like me,” Sienna said. “She's made that clear.”
“She may not be kind to you,” Desmond said. “And that's what Nathaniel needs to deal with. But she would appreciate hearing it.”
“Mm,” Sienna said. “Why don't I put down my things and then we'll go out and see what information we can gather?”
“Look at you, planning a quest,” Desmond said. “You have come far.”
“Just too late,” she said, heading into her room and Desmond sighed.
But as he unpacked, taking a few items out of his rut sack, her words rang true to him.
Could it be that they didn't mean harm? That they had the message wrong? Were they just trying to walk a different path and be accepted?
It was impossible to know, at least right now. He wished he could reached out to Nathaniel, to check on him. He had to trust that his former Tiro knew what he was doing.
Neither of them had very many items with them, and they met a few moments later. Sienna had changed into leggings and a tunic, her hair up and her face bare. Desmond was overcome with memories, watching her as she walked down the hall. He remembered the early days, when they could barely get through a day without a medical emergency. He couldn't count how many hours he had spent holding her hair back as she threw up, catching her as she fainted, and running down the hallway with her limp body, begging Nature to let him make it to the med bay in time. He remembered the good times as well, her laughter, her triumphs with magic, with language and with acceptance. All of those years melded together to the young woman walking beside him, and it seemed a miracle that she was here at all, yet alone self-sufficient and happy.
Or at least, she was until Devon began slipping. Now, he was worried all those years would coming bursting back in one choice she might make. He would do anything to change that, to have her slip back to where she used to be.
“Maestro” she turned to him suddenly. “What are you thinking?”
“How to feed you,” he admitted and she laughed.
“I have figured that out,” she said. “How to eat in odd places. It's not as bad now that the magic is blocked. I'm sure I can figure something out.”
“Blend in,” he reminded me as they got onto the street.
“Do you think…that the threat is not to the universe at all?” she asked. Desmond raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“What would our school do if we heard about others using magic, but not in a way that we agreed with? We've been on quests like that before. Quests where we've stopped magical users when we thought their ways were wrong.”
“Like Reynolds,” Desmond said, reminding her of his old Tiro, that had chosen a dark path.
“Like Reynolds,” she said softly. “We went in and we stopped them.”
“You think they might be coming to our school?”
“It might be more than that,” she said. “They might have planned for Nathaniel and Prada to be here all along. Who else would the school send when the
re was such a threat, but the two greatest warriors in the system? And who else would they want, but Prada under their watch?”
“And you,” Desmond said. “You who had so much power.”
“I used to have that much power,” she said.
“You still do,” he said. “They may not be aware of the lifestyle you've chosen. And if they are smarter than we think…I'm supposed to be here, too.”
“Do you think we are being watched?”
“It's possible,” Desmond said, drifting closer to her. “Stay close.”
Chapter 10
“Her levels are off the charts,” said the robotic voice of the universal translator application, which spoke almost on top of the Dramoonian leader. “She is in the right place.”
“I thought so,” Nathaniel said, playing along. “But I am concerned.”
“Concerned?”
“Prada is not so violent,” Nathaniel said, carefully. “She is very strong, and would be a great warrior. But the reason we stayed away so long…we heard rumors of what your ultimate quest is, to control the galaxy like the other witches, through war. Prada doesn't like violence.”
The Dramoonian looked between Prada and Nathaniel, for a very long time. Nathaniel felt his chest sink and wondered if he had made the wrong choice.
But then the Dramoonian laughed.
“You think we want to control the galaxy?” he asked.
“Isn't that what the threats are?”
“People say things they don't understand. We have to protect our own, with our lives, because they are so powerful, but we don't want total control. We want recognition that those born with such power are meant to live and die in war, that is the purpose nature gave them. And however we can serve—war, peace, intruders who mean harm who land on the planet…” He looked right at Nathaniel and Nathaniel felt his stomach sink. He knew what had happened with their ship. “We will fight to the last breath without a second guess. Because nature will take care of us after we die.”
“That is true...” Nathaniel said.
“So death doesn't matter, the pain doesn't matter, as long as we served nature.”
“Oh,” Nathaniel said, his heart pounding. And then the Dramoonian leader said the fatal words that made him panic.
“This is not the first Tiro of power you've had, Nathaniel.”
They knew his name. They knew his history. They knew everything. Had they planned this?
“What do you mean?”
“The one in here before,” he said. “Sienna was supposed to be the one to change everything.”
“Sienna is sick!” Nathaniel cried. “You saw that, you let her go.”
“Did we?” he asked. “Did we?”
He turned and went away without another word, leaving the two of them alone in the testing room. Nathaniel moved forward, but Prada grabbed his arm.
“Stop,” she said, now that they were alone. “What good will it do?”
“They knew. They knew everything.”
“They also aren't the bad guys,” Prada said. “Did you not hear them?”
“Prada, do you not understand what they want with you?”
“I understand what they want with me,” she said. “I don't understand what they want with Sienna. Isn't her magic gone?”
“It's not gone,” Nathaniel said. “It's blocked She could have it back in a flash if she stopped the drugs she's on. And she's going to do that, to save Devon. Which will kill her.”
“And what will they do with me?” Prada asked him, plainly. “Or does it matter to you?”
“Of course, it matters to me,” he said. “You're my Tiro, Prada, and I'm not going to let them take you. Don't worry.”
“What if I wanted to go?” she asked plainly. His jaw fell open in shock.
“No. This is not the way that magic, that nature, wants.”
“That's not for us to say,” she answered.
“How will you talk to them?” he challenged her and she rolled her eyes.
“I'm just saying that you're more concerned with the past right now.”
“They might be in danger, wherever they've been thrown,” Nathaniel said.
“So reach out, they know everything, anyway,” Prada said, and he realized that she was right.
Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the bond that he once had. He couldn't reach Sienna and he wouldn't dare try. But he could reach Desmond after an attempt or two.
They know who we are. They want Sienna.
I know, Desmond's thoughts came back. Are you safe?
Right now, Nathaniel managed. Stay safe. Don't come back.
We will do what we must.
Awesome, Nathaniel replied, breaking the link as he turned back to Prada. She was watching him patiently, and he noticed that she was a step away from him than she usually was. Her mind was calm, taking in her surroundings That was not normal for Prada. She wasn't physically clingy like Sienna, but mentally, she couldn't communicate with anyone else. She didn't feel comfortable with anyone else.
“They know already,” he said. “I don't know what they are doing, but they must have a plan of their own.”
“And what are we going to do?” Prada asked. “Because we may be great warriors but there are more of them, and they are at least on equal level with us. We can't win, Nathaniel. And I don't think they are going to let us walk out if they indeed to have us here.”
“There's only one thing to do, then,” he said. “Blend in. We need to meet them, talk to them, get a deeper understanding of what's happening.”
“That translator app is terrible, though,” she said, and he laughed.
“It's not so bad. When I was your age, we were lucky if every second word was right in a universal translator.”
“Still, understanding is very important in a situation like this.”
“Oh, you'd prefer a real life translator?” he teased her. “Like the one who had who walked away who you don't like.”
Prada glared at him, but only for a moment. Then, a question came through her lips.
“Was it always like that?” she asked.
“Like what?” Nathaniel asked.
“With Sienna, being sick?”
“Yes,” he said. “You know that.”
“I've never seen it though,” she said. “Why did you stick with it?”
“Prada!” he said in horror. “What a question.”
“But why?” she asked.
“Because she was my Tiro, Prada, and I wasn't going to walk away until she wanted it.”
“Oh,” Prada said, looking at her shoes. “I see.”
“I'm glad it took you that many years to see something I've been telling you all along,” he said. “And to see that it's the same with you, Tiro.”
She said nothing to that for a moment and then advanced toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To meet everyone,” she said. “They aren't going to let us leave, but they will probably let us explore, in the hopes that we like this place.”
“That's my problem,” he said, but followed her out the door.
The similarities to their academy were frightening, but Nathaniel managed to get over it soon enough as they walked. Prada was right about the fact that they wanted them to explore, he could feel it in the thoughts of everyone watching them.
They watched classes. They watched practices. They watched meal times. The differences were in the power, in the teaching. But if they just looked at the Tiros, at the Maestros, at the magic in the air, everything was the same.
What fascinated Prada was how comfortable she felt with that level of magic flowing around her. She no longer felt like an outcast, a stranger. No one was staring at her. No one was shocked at the amount of magic that ran through her veins. She was stronger than them, but it wasn't by much. Their thoughts flowed easily, their bonds coming as if it were nothing.
These were witches like her, who had been ostracized, told they didn't
belong. But they did belong here. Here, she would be accepted.
And while they were violent, she didn't see it as any more violent than the warriors on their greatest quests. Nathaniel had been one of the greatest warriors, and Prada always thought that he had given up for Sienna. How could he give up this thrill, this power, to train such a weak little witch?
Weak and yet strong. Prada couldn't think straight, and tried to quiet her thoughts to listen to others. Her Maestro seemed deep in thought himself.
He couldn't shake the idea of a threat from his mind, but the more he watched, the more he thought that their words might be truth. Maybe they did just want their way of power recognized; in the hope that they would also get to serve Nature. But something seemed off, the more he watched.
Prada, he said, quietly with his mind. Prada, I think they are training for something.
They are, she said, reminding him that she was much more powerful than he would ever be. There is a threat. But it's not in the galaxy.
Prada… he thought, hearing the thoughts before they were fully formed. They want to take down our school.
Takeover, she said. That's what they want us for. Live or die, as long as you will serve the magic. And if we don't serve them...
She didn't need to finish the sentence. With two against a whole army, they would die if they didn't do as they said.
Why are Desmond and Sienna on the planet, walking free? Nathaniel urged her.
I don't know, she thought, searching the air. But he could see there was something in her face.
Prada! He threatened.
She sighed.
I think they won't be free for much longer, Prada said. It was a rouse, to split us up.
Desmond! Nathaniel broke his bond with Prada to reach out to his former Maestro. Desmond!
There was no answer and Nathaniel began to panic. He closed his eyes, pushing his thoughts, but there wasn't an answer. He had one last option, and he hated it.
Sienna, he tried.
Maestro, she answered right away. Nathaniel simultaneously wanted to yell at her and thank her.
You and Desmond are in danger. You will be hostages.
Over my dead body, Sienna's voice came and then there was silence.
The Vampire Touch 1: The Forsaken Page 72