by Ciara Graves
Rori’s face wrinkled. Her hand squeezed mine tightly enough to make me wince.
“What’s going on? Talk to us,” I said sternly. “Rori.”
“I can see the shadow figure,” she whispered. “She’s there on the path.”
“Go to her,” I said. “But remember, you’re in charge. Not her.”
Her hand grew cold, and her breath puffed out in a white cloud. The wetness in her hair glistened with ice, and she craned her neck, as if listening to someone.
My pulse hammered in my chest, waiting.
She yelped, and all three of us were thrown backward, barely managing to stay on our feet and keep hold of each other.
“What was that?” Brogan grunted. “Rori, you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry. I saw the path.” She shook out her frost-tipped hair, showering us with ice. “But when I stepped on it, it threw me backward.”
“Whatever you were thinking of, don’t think it was strong enough. Try something else,” I told her. “Something maybe that didn’t make you happy but showed yourself who you are.”
Rori gave me a funny look.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, just wondering how one minute you can be wise beyond your years. And then the next, a total jackass.”
Brogan laughed.
“You think you’re so funny,” I growled. “Try again, smartass.”
“See what I mean?” she mumbled but closed her eyes as we reformed our small circle.
This time, ice covered her hands and shot up her arms, but when she breathed out, the white cloud had a tinge of violet to it.
Brogan caught my eye, neither of us spoke, not wanting to interrupt whatever was happening in Rori’s mind.
The ice covering her hands and arms changed color, and as we watched, a shadow appeared, moving like a paintbrush. Gliding around her hands and fingers, then up her arms.
The sight transfixed me, and soon the marks reached her neck, up to her cheeks and around her eyes. Her breathing was steady, and a look of peace came over her. The minutes ticked by, but she never opened her eyes.
“Should we be worried?” Brogan whispered.
“Not sure,” I replied quietly.
I’d never met a necromancer. I had no idea what to expect.
Just when Brogan seemed ready to interrupt her, her eyes shot open.
We both flinched.
Swirls of icy blue and dark violet glowed in their depths. Her gaze shifted to the floor.
A swarm of frost burst to life, shadows intermingling with the ice.
I took a half step back.
“Chas,” Brogan said hesitantly, a question in his voice.
I had no answers. No idea what she was doing.
The ice and shadows began to take shape, stretching and forming into a shape resembling a dog.
It grew larger, and soon there was a wolf. Brogan and I had to let go of our grip and step back to give the beast room. It was easily half the size of my bear form.
As it began to solidify, I realized she was finding her familiar.
When it stopped growing, the shadow and ice rushed around it, blocking it from view.
Rori let out a gasp and staggered backward, hunched over and sucking in air.
“Rori?” Brogan smoothed her hair back from her face, but she smiled. “You alright?”
“Think so—oh, wow,” she whispered.
A large white wolf with glowing eyes, one violet, one blue stood before us.
She reached out to him, and he nuzzled her hand with his snout.
“I did it. I found my familiar.”
The wolf turned his head.
She jerked her hand back.
The other half of the wolf’s face was barely more than the skeleton of the beast and a few scraps of fur.
“It’s half dead?”
“It’s reflecting the paths you follow,” I said, not sure if that was why or not, but it was the only explanation I had. “Feel better now?”
Rori nodded, reaching out to pet the wolf again.
“Thank you both,” she murmured.
The ice and marks on her body were slowly fading away, as if they’d never been there at all.
I headed to the kitchen, giving the familiar a decent amount of room, just in case, and poured us coffee.
Brogan and Rori were talking quietly, but when he went to put his arm around her waist, she slipped out of his reach, a weird glint in her eyes.
Confusion crossed his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets though and brushed it off.
I waited, then I took the coffee over, studying Rori interacting with her familiar.
She ran her hands down its neck, but the smile that seemed so genuine when she came out of her trance suddenly appeared fake, like it was a strain to keep it.
My brow furrowed, and my instincts went on high alert. Those icy blue eyes latched onto my gaze, and it was like the air went out of my lungs from the intensity of that one look.
“Chas, something wrong?” Brogan joined me.
I slid him one of the mugs, unable to answer until Rori lowered her gaze.
She snapped her fingers, and her familiar disappeared with a loud crack.
“No, nothing,” I said as Rori walked over. I slid the third mug to her.
She took it with a mumbled, “Thanks.”
Brogan said something about our plans for tomorrow.
With half my mind still on Rori, I told him we’d be busy packing up the rest of the outpost, then moving out to a safer location. Where, I hadn’t been told yet. But from what I picked up, it was further north. There were outposts scattered all throughout the mountains and to the northern border with Canada. We would go as far as needed to stay away from the Cleansers until we were ready.
Rori sipped her coffee, chatting with Brogan.
She sounded like herself, but deep down, a nagging voice said whatever we had done together did not go as planned.
Chapter 3
Brogan
In the courtyard, I hefted crates into one of the many trucks making ready to leave the outpost behind.
Cold weather was settling in, and I puffed warm air into my hands, rubbing them together briskly.
Every soldier was here helping, load, though not all were leaving the outpost. Some were staying behind to keep up appearances that we were still here. Or at least someone was. We weren’t actually pulling out until night, to give us a chance of secrecy.
Unless they were watching the outpost right now, then there was really no point.
Moran said he sent out scouts and none of them reported seeing suspicious activity along the roads. But really, nothing he said made me feel better at this point. The Cleansers managed to get to the barricade and break in without anyone realizing they were in the area.
“Hey, slacker,” Rori teased and shoved another crate toward me.
“How are you not cold?” I muttered, shivering at the sight of her walking around in her black pants and matching tank.
“I have ice flowing through my veins, remember?”
“Yeah, well, for my sake, put a damned jacket on.” I picked up my end of the crate, and together we lifted it and slid it into the truck. “Nearly finished?”
Her eyes took on a faraway look.
“Rori?”
I said her name two more times.
She gave herself a shake. “Huh?”
“The crates. Are we almost finished loading?”
She gave a distracted nod. “Think so. Not much left in there, except bare bone supplies for the crew staying behind.”
“You good?”
She locked eyes with me briefly. “Yeah, why?”
“Nothing, just checking. How’s your side?”
“Hurts, but the stitches are holding.”
“If Agnes sees you lifting shit, she’s going to yell at you,” I warned.
“I’m surprised you’re not yelling at me.”
“I know better.” I winked
She moved closer and wrapped an arm around my neck.
The move surprised me, but I hid it and leaned in to kiss her.
Since she found her familiar, she’d been growing distant toward me.
Most of the time, she stood so there was distance between us. And when I’d reach for her, she’d slip out of reach, making it look like she was moving away by coincidence. Then there were moments like this one where she was the Rori I’d come to know and started to fall for.
“Are you okay?” she asked when she pulled back, both of us breathing heavily.
“Just cold, ready to get on the road. Being here makes me nervous,” I lied. Well partly.
We were uncertain if the Cleansers would attack this outpost again after their first failure. Every day we were here was another day of waiting for the second shoe to drop.
“Me too,” she sighed, watching the woods warily.
“We’re going to be fine,” I promised. “We’ll get out of here and get to this new safehouse. We’ll be good.”
She kissed me again and said she was going to go grab her things from her room, that she’d see me inside.
I watched her hurry away, my smile falling as soon as she was out of sight. It had to all be inside my head, that’s what I told myself, not that it made me feel any better.
Once we were settled at the new outpost, I’d watch her more closely, if only to prove to myself I was simply paranoid.
“Wake up, man, we’re here.” Chas socked me in the shoulder.
I bolted upright in the front seat of the truck, yawning and stretching. “Where exactly is here?” I peered out the windshield at the rising sun on the horizon. “Is that snow?”
“Yep, welcome to the outpost in Montana. Middle of freaking nowhere.”
“That’s good, though. Right?”
“Guess so, but we’re far away from reinforcements if we need them.”
We rumbled down a gravel road that gave way to dirt after another mile.
I frowned as we drove up to a ramshackle barbed wire fence with a faded sign. So faded I couldn’t read it.
We followed the line of vehicles in front of us through what I assumed used to be a checkpoint gate, and on to what looked like a rundown cabin with a few outbuildings.
“This is the outpost? You’re kidding.”
“Underground,” he said with a smirk. “One of the best-hidden outposts of the Vanguard.”
“Oh, that’s comforting,” I grumbled, not liking the idea of being shoved in a cave, underground, away from the sunshine and the clear open sky. “Not sure I like this idea anymore.”
“It was Moran who constructed it.”
“Why would a shaman ever agree to be underground?”
“You’d have to ask him, but there’s very few who know of this base, very few. We should be safe here until we’re ready.”
His words filled the cab of the truck as he put it in park.
Neither one of us made a move to get out, though, watching as others unloaded in front and behind us. We’d be busy the rest of the day, unpacking and getting acquainted with our new home. Sparring would have to wait until the next day, at the earliest.
Chas flung open his door to climb out. I mirrored him, my boots sinking into the mud and snow as I shut my door and joined the crowd near the cabin.
Moran was the first inside and walked to the rear wall. There, he shoved a painting of a moose aside and flattened his hand on a metal panel.
I expected to see an electrical scan of some kind, but instead, his power pulsed, lighting the mark on the back of his hand, and the floorboards folded in on themselves, revealing a trapdoor. He grunted as he heaved it open and we looked into a large freight elevator.
“Alright, let's get a supply train going,” he ordered. “I want this convoy unloaded and all vehicles hidden in the bunker within the hour. Let’s move, people.”
The next hour was a mad, somewhat orderly rush of the convoy being unloaded and each crate stacked and sent down to the lower levels.
I was eager to get down there and see what our new living circumstances were going to be, but Moran held us back until all the supplies were sent down, and the trucks were hidden in a bunker I hadn’t noticed when we pulled up.
Only then did Moran lead me, Chas, Rori, and Agnes to the lift to head below ground.
“Welcome to your new home,” he said as the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors parted.
The outpost was insane. We stepped out onto a platform, with catwalks stretching every which way from it. Below was what I assumed the ground floor and as I leaned over the railing and looked up, saw more walkways with corridors leading off them, carved out of the stone.
“How big is this place?” I asked.
“Big enough to hide an army if need be,” Moran replied. “I’ll show you to your rooms and then you three will meet me in the war room.”
Rori’s eyes flared blue, but if she had any more issues with us being in a war, she kept them to herself.
Our quarters ended up being two levels up from the ground floor, down the second hall on the left. The entire base was in the shape of a circle, so I didn’t worry too much about getting lost. We each had our own room. Rori ducked into hers, shutting the door behind her. I was tempted to follow and knock but told myself I was overreacting and went to my room instead.
The space wasn’t anything special. It had a cot, a desk, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a tiny attached bathroom. Very tiny.
I dumped my bag and stepped out to wait for the others. Chas joined me a second later, and we stood around, waiting for Rori. I checked my watch as five minutes passed, then ten.
Finally, I knocked on her door. “Rori? We should go meet with Moran.” I knocked louder a second time when there was no answer.
Chas walked over and banged his fist next, yelling her name.
We stepped back, ready to force the door, when it flew open, and Rori was there.
“What’s all the fuss about?” she asked with a smile.
Something about that smiled seemed off.
“You weren’t answering,” I replied. “Everything okay?”
“Course.” She stepped out. “Let’s go find Moran.”
Her tone sounded strange. I caught the same confused, worried look in Chas’s eyes, then he took off after her, leaving me to catch up.
Following Moran’s earlier directions, we took the metal stairs to the main floor, where we joined him, Agnes, and the other commanders in a large room carved out of the stone. Several monitors covered the far wall, all of them turned off. A round table filled the central space.
Moran nodded for us to take a seat, though he remained standing. “We have news from the local Vanguard, and you all have a right to hear it,” Moran started. “As much as I would like to stand here and deliver nothing, but good news, I’m afraid all I have is bad news. Cleansers attacks have increased. There have been several anti-magic protests that turned violent. No deaths yet, but there are reports of magic-users near these protests who were corrupted.”
“How many?” Chas asked.
“Enough for the government to take notice and tell us we had best get our people under control,” Moran snapped.
“Why? It’s not our doing. It’s their people.” Rori’s tone was flat, though her eyes flared blue with a hint of violet. “They should be doing something about it, instead of leaving us to clean up their mess.”
“Though I agree with you, I’m afraid that’s not how they see it. And as of now, we have no way to prove this group is anything more than a bunch of radicals taking out their anger on us.”
“So then we need proof. How do we get it?” Chas asked.
“We have men working on that, but you three are to continue your training. We have tracked down several priests who will be arriving over the next few days, to see if you are compatible. Though you don’t technically need a fourth member, I want you to be as strong as we can make you,” Moran informed
us.
“What about these weapons they’re using?” I chimed in.
“Until we get our hands on them, all we know is what you three told us.”
“And?”
I glanced at Chas, hearing the same agitation in that one word as I felt at that moment.
“And we’ve called in all the experts we have in those fields, but they haven’t had much time to replicate anything that has the same effect as what you described,” Moran explained. “Patience and training are what I need from you three now. Understand?”
“But it is those weapons causing the corruption then?” I asked to clarify.
“As far as we can tell, yes.” Moran’s gaze shifted from Chas to Rori. “I hear you’re making headway with your new path?”
She shot Chas and me a glare so brief, I wasn’t sure if I imagined it. “I have a familiar now.”
“Good. Have you been able to fully tap into those powers yet?”
“I will be ready. Nothing to worry about.”
Moran frowned. I realized I wasn’t the only one picking up on Rori’s strange change in attitude.
He wrapped it up, “Then there is nothing left to say. The Vanguard will be tracking the Cleansers. The priests will be arriving first thing in the morning. I suggest you three rest while you can. Dismissed.”
Rori was out the door first and was down the corridor before I could even ask her if she wanted to take some time and explore the outpost.
“Something happen between you two?” Chas asked.
“Not that I know of. Sure she’s just tired, maybe going to work on her necromancy,” I said, knowing he’d see through that excuse. I waited for him to give me shit for it, but instead, he seemed as worried as I was. “Do you think she’s acting off?”
He shuffled his feet and shrugged, two things I rarely saw him do. “Aren’t we all acting differently than we used to?”
“That different though?” I almost went on to tell him how many times she’d pulled away from my touch, without an explanation. After the three of us had a breakthrough with her necromancy, I assumed she would’ve gotten over her fear of being around us. It was the only explanation that made sense.