by Lynette Noni
“We only had a fortnight off,” Pipsqueak said, watching Alex and Connor try to contain the pool of syrup as it leaked further across the table. “You shouldn’t need any time to recover.”
As always, Pip could be counted on to state the obvious.
“I sure need time,” Blink said, dipping his waffle into the puddle and raising it to his mouth. Clearly, he wasn’t concerned with hygiene. “I spent those fifteen blissful days surfing off the north coast of Mardenia. Such a rush, but I’m, like, totally wiped, even after being back here a week.” He double-dipped more table-syrup. “Or maybe it’s because we’ve been back a week.” He chewed thoughtfully. “How long ’til we’re done for the year?”
“Too long,” Mel grumbled.
“But not long enough,” Connor said. When the rest of them looked at him, he explained, “Next year is our last year here, unless we’re offered apprenticeship positions. Either way, fifth year is going to be wicked challenging. I’m not in a rush to get there.”
As her classmates began debating their opinions and went on to discuss what they were considering doing after graduating, Alex found herself removed from the conversation. What they were taking about, it was all so… normal. None of them had any idea what was going on in the world, what was going on with Aven, and what it might mean for them. They had no idea they might not make it to see their fifth year at all, let alone beyond that.
Agitated and jittery, Alex rose abruptly enough that their conversation paused and all eyes turned to her again.
“I’m just—I forgot I need to do something.”
Pipsqueak raised a dubious eyebrow. “Sure you did.”
Unable to offer an explanation, Alex turned away and called over her shoulder, “I’ll catch you guys later.”
Once outside the food court, she reined in her volatile thoughts by compiling a mental to-do list, heading in the direction of the Tower to speak with Darrius. Halfway there she did an about-face after catching sight of a familiar figure out in the middle of the archery fields.
Wading her way through the snow, Alex made sure to approach her instructor with caution, mostly because Maggie had her bow drawn and was taking aim at a target much further away than any human would be able to hit. Or even see.
“You’re Meyarin,” Alex said without preamble once she was a few steps away.
Maggie released her arrow. It hit the bullseye with a satisfying thwack that Alex only saw and heard because of her heightened senses.
“I am.” Maggie flicked her eyes towards Alex, nodding pointedly at her golden skin. “And at a guess, I’d say you’re the fabled Aeylia.”
Alex’s eyes widened and she stuttered to a halt. “How do you know that name?”
Maggie drew another arrow from the quiver strapped to her back and notched it on her bow, aiming once again. As she did so, she said, “A long time ago, a Meyarin babe was abandoned in a forest and left to grow up amongst mortals.”
She released her second arrow and—thwack—it spliced straight down the centre of the first.
“That Meyarin eventually found her way to Meya, where she was taken in by the royal family who taught her the ways of the immortal race—her race.”
Maggie drew and released a third arrow. Her aim was again perfect, and it speared down the length of the two already in the target before she finally rested the end of the bow on the ground and turned to face Alex.
“Time passed. Not much, but enough for her to decide she missed her mortal family and the life they’d shared with her, so she left the city and returned to them.” Maggie’s striking grey eyes never left Alex as she finished, “She was never seen or heard from again.”
During her instructor’s short tale, Alex had remained frozen. And that was because, while missing massive chunks of information, that was the story of ‘Aeylia’—or at least the beginning part, if not the end.
“No one remembers her name; not her face nor her voice nor, indeed, anything about her at all,” Maggie continued. “She is a blur in the minds of those who happened upon her during her brief stay in Meya. But she left her mark, even if those affected by her time there are, for the most part, unable to recall her role in the events that played out.”
Alex shivered. “How do you know all this?”
“Because, Alex,” Maggie said, “I have been acting as if I were her—as if I were you—for thousands of years.”
A choked breath was all Alex could manage, along with a whispered, “What?”
Maggie didn’t say anything for a long moment. But then she released a sigh and glanced around. Satisfied that no one was in sight, she caught Alex unawares when she stepped closer and activated the Valispath, and within seconds they were inside her much warmer, much more private quarters in the Tower building.
“Have a seat,” Maggie offered as she hung her bow and quiver on the rack mounted to her wall, unfastened her cloak and fluffed out her glossy black hair.
Alex felt numb with trepidation as she stumbled towards the couch in front of the fireplace and sank down into the corner of it. Her gaze wandered around the room, taking in the numerous bows lining the walls and the multitudes of arrows in all shapes, sizes and colours. She catalogued it all before Maggie joined her on the couch, shoving a steaming mug of hot chocolate under her nose.
“I just had breakfast,” Alex found herself saying as she inhaled the mouth-watering aroma.
“There’s no such thing as a bad time for hot chocolate.”
Unable to fault that logic, Alex took a sip of the comforting liquid and waited while Maggie settled on the other end of the couch.
“I only know about you because of Aes Daega.”
Startled, Alex took too large a mouthful and ended up scalding her tongue. “What?” she hissed around the pain.
“She told me everything about you. That you were from the future, that you were bound to the Draekoran heir, that you were human. She also told me your name,” Maggie said. “But until you returned from the holidays shimmering with your draekon bond, I didn’t know Aeylia was you, specifically, Alex.”
“Why did she tell you all that? What did you mean when you said you were acting like you were me?”
“Your story had a beginning, but it needed to have an end,” Maggie said. “What I told you before, about the babe left in the forest and raised by mortals—that part you knew, that part you were there to act for yourself. But when you left, there needed to be a decoy in place on the off-chance someone came searching for you.” She lifted her mug to her lips. “You did, after all, leave a trail of destruction in your wake when you disappeared. But it wasn’t safe for that trail to vanish like you did.”
Alex paled, but before she could say anything—apologise, defend herself, anything—Maggie quickly hurried on.
“Not that it was your fault, I know that, Alex,” she said. “There was nothing you could have done to stop the effects of time and what occurred while you were in the past. You just had to watch it play out.”
“That doesn’t make the guilt feel any better,” Alex said quietly.
“Nevertheless,” Maggie said, “there’s no point dwelling on what can’t be changed.”
Alex sipped more of her hot chocolate even though it now brought her little comfort.
“I was in a unique position back then,” Maggie continued. “I had just completed my varrungard and been offered a place to train as one of the Zeltora, mostly thanks to my skill with a bow. But my family situation was… not wonderful. Neither of my parents approved of my decision to enter the elite guard, and they made life very… difficult for me. My brother was the only one who supported me, who told me to reach for my dreams no matter what our parents wanted. He said he was stuck following in our father’s footsteps, but that at least he’d get to live vicariously through me.”
Maggie laughed quietly. It was a soft, sad sound. Bittersweet. Telling.
“What happened?” Alex whispered.
“Aven is what happened.” Maggie
’s knuckles whitened as she gripped her mug so tightly Alex feared it would shatter. “He convinced my brother to become one of his loyal Garseth, and in doing so, he stole the only real family I ever had.”
Maggie’s voice lowered until Alex could barely hear her as she finished, “The day Aven killed those humans and fled the city was the day my brother lost his life following the cause of that tyrant.”
“I’m so sorry,” Alex whispered around her clogged throat, remembering the blood in the street and the battle in the throne room, upset but unsurprised to hear Meyarins had died that day, too. “So, so sorry.”
Maggie shook her head sadly. “I already told you, Alex, it’s not your fault.”
“But it is,” Alex argued, her voice just as sad, just as soft. “If Lady—Aes Daega told you everything else, then you must know I’m the reason Aven went and slaughtered those humans. Which means I’m the reason his Garseth were fighting alongside him that day. Your brother lost his life because of me.”
“My brother lost his life because of Aven,” Maggie said, her voice strengthening. She placed her mug on the coffee table and took Alex’s free hand, holding it firmly between her own. “This is important and I need you to hear me on this, Alex. You did not establish and lead a group of rebels to incite revolution and challenge laws that had been in place for millennia. You did not slaughter innocent humans and coat the streets with their blood. You did not attack your father and brother with the intent to kill them and take the throne. And you did not flee rather than face the punishment for your crimes, resulting in your banishment and the warding of Meya so that neither you nor anyone else could find the city without aid ever again.”
Alex chewed on her lip as she thought over Maggie’s words and admitted, “This is true. But I am the reason he did most of those things.”
“Aven had a choice—just as we all do.” Maggie’s tone was unyielding. “He chose wrong.” She released a shallow breath. “And so did my brother. Now it’s up to the rest of us to clean up the aftermath of their actions as best we can.”
Alex closed her eyes as Maggie’s unwavering resolve struck a chord deep within her.
“I left everything behind to keep anyone from discovering the truth about you, Alex.”
Her eyes snapped back open.
“Without my brother, I had no one,” Maggie said. “That’s why Aes Daega came to me. She knew—somehow, some way, she knew there was nothing left for me in Meya. I wasn’t strong enough to go through the Zeltora training without my brother there. I just… I couldn’t do it on my own. So when I was offered a way out, especially knowing that it could help someone who might one day stand a chance at defeating Aven, I knew I had to take it.”
Maggie looked into the fire, her gaze unfocused. “Loro Eanraka offered me a place as an instructor at his school—at Akarnae—and I settled into a life living amongst mortals. The years passed and knowledge of my race began disappearing from the memories of humans. And all the while I stayed here on the off-chance that one of my own would seek out the Meyarin who had been but a blip on the timeline of Meya’s history, but who had left her mark on the world as we know it.”
Silence descended around them, until Alex asked, “Did anyone ever come looking for you? For me, I mean?”
“No one other than Aven.”
Alex jolted. “Aven came?”
“He has more blurred memories of you than most,” Maggie said. “Enough for him to want to seek you out, if only to question why he failed to remember you, given the normally perfect recall of our race.”
“What happened when he found you? I mean, me. I mean, uh, Aeylia.”
Maggie shook her head. “I never let him find me. Of all Meyarins who might have come searching, he was one of the few who I couldn’t let see me. Don’t forget—my brother was one of his Garseth. Aven knew me back in Meya. He would have recognised me instantly and known some deceit was afoot.”
Alex ran her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe you’ve stayed here so long, and in the end for no reason. No one else came searching. You could have remained in Meya. Or gone back at any time.”
“There was nothing for me there,” Maggie said, her features grim. “I couldn’t have lived in the place where my brother was taken from me. I wouldn’t have survived. Despite what you might fear, I don’t regret my decision. In fact, I’m grateful for everything Aes Daega offered me. I wouldn’t be here without her—or without ‘Aeylia’.”
“Well, I’m grateful, too,” Alex said, meeting her eyes. “Because even if it wasn’t needed, it might have been. You could have covered my ass a thousand times over and not even known it.”
Maggie’s gaze narrowed. “Regardless of this moment we’re sharing, I’m still your teacher, Alex.”
“… Huh?”
“‘Ass’,” was all Maggie said in response.
Alex bit back a smile, forgetting that, while some of her instructors allowed freedom of speech in their classes, others, like Maggie, did not. “Sorry.”
“I’ll give you a pass this time, considering the circumstances.”
Alex dipped her head in thanks and stood to her feet, presuming their conversation had come to an end. “I’d better go make sure Dix is still alive and not going to sleep through the next three hundred years.” When Maggie opened her mouth, Alex added a quick, “Don’t ask.” Then she continued, “If you’re free in an hour, I’m holding a meeting in Darrius’s office. It’d be great if you can make it.”
Maggie cocked an eyebrow. “Does the headmaster know about this meeting?”
Alex grinned. “He will when I tell him.”
And with Maggie’s graceful laughter ringing in her ears, Alex left the Tower building and headed for her dorm, ticking one thing off her list and trying not to panic at the thought of just how much was left to do.
Eleven
Just over an hour later, Alex stood beside the window wall of Darrius’s office, staring out across the snow-dusted academy. When the final person arrived in a swirl of colour, she turned from the view and looked at those she’d asked the headmaster to contact using his ComGlobe, summoning them to this meeting.
Hunter, Karter, Maggie, Caspar Lennox and Fletcher, as well as Darrius, Jordan, Bear and D.C. all sat along the large conference table, looking at her with various levels of curiosity and, in some cases, resignation.
Alex didn’t make them wait.
“I need your help.”
She took a seat before saying more.
“I know you’re still in discussion with the other teachers about what to do,” she said, flattening her palms to the table, “and until you can all come to an agreement, you don’t want to act. I get that. Diplomacy is important.”
It was just, in this case, extremely frustrating.
“But I can’t just sit around and wait,” Alex continued. “A whole week has passed, and while Aven hasn’t done anything concerning in that time—”
“That we know of,” Jordan mumbled, an odd expression on his face as he looked to Hunter.
“That we know of,” she agreed. “But while he’s not yet outwardly attacking mortals, we have no idea how long this grace period will last. I won’t—I won’t—have more blood on my hands just because we were all too determined to sit on them than to act.”
Darrius made a helpless gesture. “You said yourself that the human leaders of Medora are waiting to learn more before taking action. What would you have us do, Alex?”
“You?” Alex shook her head. “Nothing.”
Karter grunted, “Then what’re we all here for?”
“You can’t do anything,” Alex said, keeping her eyes on Darrius. “You once told me that the Library’s protection wards are strongest when the headmaster is in residence. Now more than ever you can’t leave the academy. We need a secure place, especially when there are so many gifted people here Aven would want to… exploit.”
Grimaces from all around the table.
“We have no int
ention of allowing that to happen,” Fletcher said in a conciliatory tone. Despite the doctor’s normally comforting bedside manner, not even the confidence in his voice could ease the tension in Alex’s shoulders.
“This academy has stood for millennia without Aven breaching its wards long enough to gain a foothold here,” Maggie said—and she would know, having been around to witness those millennia. “He will not manage to do so now. Not while we’re all here to stop him.”
“Which is exactly why I need you all to stay here and keep everyone safe—including anyone who might come seeking refuge in the coming times,” Alex said, her gaze unfocused as the future vision passed across her mind. “And it’s also why I need you all to understand what I’m going to say next.”
“Well, I’m intrigued,” came Caspar Lennox’s melodic voice. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
“The other races need to be informed so that we can stand together as a united front. And while you have to stay here,”—Alex took a breath—“I don’t.”
Hunter, silent until now, was the first to understand. There was an approving light in his eyes—as opposed to the alarm dawning on the faces of the others—as he asked, “What do you need from us, Alex?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I need to know where to go. And I need to know what to expect.”
Hunter was nodding, his expression thoughtful, but he was one of the few around the table who looked pleased by her demands.
“Alex, don’t you think—”
“I’m sorry, Darrius, but I didn’t intend on this being a debate.” She halted the headmaster’s opening argument with an apologetic but firm look. “I’ll be doing this with or without your approval. It’s too important. But I respect you—all of you—and it’ll be easier and less risky if you can offer me advice on who to see—and how.”
“The Flips, the Jarnocks, the Shadow Walkers and the Dayriders,” Hunter said, leaning in and resting his arms on the table. “Along with us, they’re the leading powers amongst the mortal races, the ones you’ll want to bring into this.”