by Elle Cardy
“Let me by,” she screamed.
The ocean surged, lifting her off her feet, soaking her through. The glacial touch took her breath away. The powerful currents slammed her against the rocks and dragged her out. Off the rock shelf. Away from the archway. When she cried out curses, she copped a mouthful of seawater.
Breathe. She had to breathe.
She had to get back to solid ground.
She tried swimming, but the swell tossed her about like flotsam. She gasped for breath. Marcelo had been right. She would die in Yactun.
No. To admit that would be to admit failure. If she died, so would Finn and Brusan and everyone she knew and loved, because there’d be nothing and no one left to defeat the Beast. She couldn’t give up.
The ocean dragged her down into its dark depths. It thrust her against the edge of the rock platform. It tossed her against the cliff walls. Jagged rocks gouged her arms and legs. She cried out and choked on seawater. Bubbles and froth rose up around her, the bars of a cage. She needed to wield. It was her only hope.
The magic she drew through her four talismans fizzled against the forces knocking her about. She wasn’t strong enough to fight nature and her inevitable end. She had to try something else. She had to go deeper.
Jasmine reached beyond her talismans, tapping into forbidden places that came not from crafted objects but herself, the places that could destroy her after depleting her. And still she couldn’t find enough power. She went deeper again, spreading herself thin and wide. She drew a strength of power like nothing she’d felt before. It surged through her. It sang a song of glory around her. It made her fierce and mighty. Every nerve tingled with its touch.
With that newfound strength, she swam to the surface and took a deep breath of sweet air. The ocean currents swirled around her, without jostling or dragging. When the waves pulled away, her feet touched rock and sand, and she walked under the arch.
The air changed. It no longer smelled of seaweed or brine, but of pine and snow. A strange hush pressed against her as if she stood in a distant valley and not a few paces from the ocean — even though waves lapped at her feet. Countless gouges scored her arms and legs. Purple bruising bloomed across her skin. None of it hurt.
Perhaps she was in shock.
Brusan ran to her. “You’re hurt.”
She frowned, trying to take stock of the damage. She was still breathing. It was more than she’d expected. She cleared her throat. “No broken bones. Nothing that won’t heal over time.”
With tender care, he lifted her into his arms. “I thought I’d lost you.” He carried her to the rocky shore.
When he set her back on her feet where the others waited, she contained her magic, making it small. It still surged within her.
Finn ran up and stared.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little beaten up.”
Burying his head in her shoulder, he gently held her. “When you didn’t appear…”
They stood in a protected hollow surrounded by dark cliffs dotted by snow. Like a half-trampled forest, spears of rock reached for the circle of gray sky. In the center of the hollow stood a ring of massive stone blocks that loomed over them. This was no natural formation. Someone had impossibly carried the blocks through the only entrance to the strange amphitheater then arranged them in their precise manner. Some of the stones had circular patterns carved into their surfaces. The notches caught the snow, so it seemed a hand had painted the patterns in white. A cold mist hung low to the ground.
Where there had been a hush, now there was a faint hum.
Reluctant to let go of Finn, she gave him a gentle squeeze and stepped away. There was power here. It prickled like static. It was different to the power that swelled within her. It spoke of age, immensity, and a peculiar knowing she didn’t understand. She ran a hand over one of the carved monoliths. The stone didn’t belong to Yactun. It came from somewhere else. It came from the hollow where she stood. Jasmine frowned. They were no longer in Yactun.
A vast city at sunset caught her inner eye and dazzled. She’d seen that city before, when she’d lost control of her magic and Gley had grabbed her. Jasmine ran her fingers along the block’s grooves. Eons spoke to her. A lost people wandering across vast distances. A people who belonged nowhere and nowhen. Jasmine lifted her hand, and the vision faded. She pressed her hand against the cold granite, and the golden light returned. The vision was a moment caught in perpetuity for anyone with the ability to see. The stones were both witnesses and testaments of warning.
Gley caressed a stone, her head down, her eyes closed. When she opened them, she looked directly at Jasmine.
Folk often spoke about destiny. Jasmine hadn’t taken much stock in it, but standing there, in the center of the circle like she was being judged by a dozen pillars of antiquity, Jasmine knew in her bones she would meet her destiny here. Wherever “here” was.
With shoulders hunched against the cold, Finn hugged himself as he looked around. His clothes and boots were soaked through. Small puffs of frosted air escaped his nose and mouth as he shivered.
“Give me your cloak, lass,” Brusan said.
Why did he want her cloak? Ah. She too was soaked through and should’ve been as cold as Finn looked. Even Dras rubbed his arms and stamped his feet. In a daze, she gave Brusan her cloak. As he squeezed it out, great rivulets of water splashed into the snow, revealing carved flagstones beneath.
He handed it to her. “It’s the best I can do without a fire.”
She took the heavy material and swung it over her shoulders. Her magic kept her warm. She hadn’t realized it until Brusan gave back the cold cloak. Without having to concentrate, she kept herself warm and would soon dry out her clothes with the heat too. No weakness came from the use of that magic. Its flow was so fine, she doubted Finn could’ve sensed it.
A flush of heat raced over her, and steam rose up around her. Too much. The heat was suffocating. She pressed herself against a monolith, embracing its icy touch and golden light. Melted snow ran down its surface, evaporating midway. She swore under her breath as she cooked. Concentrating, she stopped the flow of her magic. Cold air froze the sweat on her body and sent a chill up her spine. Large patches of her clothes remained wet.
Great. Extra power hadn’t meant better control.
Gley approached. “Let me.” She touched Jasmine’s shoulder. A gentle heat wrapped around her and properly dried her clothes.
Jasmine gaped at her. “You don’t use a talisman.” It was a truth that glowed around her.
Gley narrowed her eyes but said nothing. She went to Finn. Steam rose around him as his clothes and boots dried under her touch.
Watching the girl wield, Jasmine felt no hunger for the magic. While she hadn’t been able to see the girl’s magic as she could when others wielded, she suddenly knew why. “You use a different kind of magic.”
A slight quirk pulled at the corner of Gley’s mouth. “I was wondering when you’d work that out. If ever.”
“How is that possible?”
“An accident of her birth,” Dras said, sounding humorless.
Gley glared at him.
Jasmine worked through this new knowledge. “That’s why you need me. Not because I’m particularly good at wielding, but because I possess something you don’t have. The Beast responds to my magic, not yours.” She wasn’t certain she was getting it right until Gley nodded.
“I use the old magic,” Gley said. “Just as your magic has limits, so does mine. I can get around those limits with your help.”
Jasmine wasn’t sure the same limits applied as they had before she’d almost drowned. She was stronger than she ever imagined possible. And more dangerous. If Finn had been nervous about her power when her Prize was her talisman, now… Unable to look at him, she turned away. She could tap into a different source of power now. But what was it? Was it this place, wherever this place was? Was it standing in the center of the monolit
hs? There was power here, but it wasn’t hers.
Not far away, the ocean slammed against the rocks and boomed against the walls that sought to hold it back. A cold shiver ran through her. The bolt, the cloth, the swivel, and the mermaid were inadequate talismans now. They were grains of sand. She had a new source. She had the ocean. If the others knew, Beast or not, they would kill her. If the Beast knew, it would glory in the promise of its release. And clearly, she still had little control over this new power.
Without trying, she’d made everything a thousand-fold worse. Again.
Chapter 42
Gley stood in the center of the circle. “Shall we begin?”
“What’s your plan?” Jasmine asked. Surely now the girl would be willing to tell her more.
“To defeat the Beast, of course.”
Not helpful. As usual.
Gley watched the flakes of snow drifting into the circle of stone monoliths. “I need you to cast. To wield. Something small. It doesn’t matter.”
Something small. Jasmine wasn’t sure she could do anything small. The power pushed on her walls, yelling to get out. A soft breeze blew against her cheek. She turned to Finn, and he grinned. She wondered what else Finn could do. She wanted to see for herself, to taste his power, to feel it, own it, be it.
Stop.
“Not you,” Gley said to Finn. “Sorry to say, you don’t have Jasmine’s ability.” The breeze settled. She turned her bright gaze on Jasmine. “Do what he just did. I don’t care. Just do something with your magic.”
Jasmine’s magic bashed against the sides of her inner walls, demanding release, screaming for more. It was this place. She was sure of it.
“What is this place?” she asked. The monoliths seemed to lean in, listening for the answer.
“No one’s entirely sure,” Dras said unexpectedly. For a moment he seemed as ancient as the stones around them, as if he too were a witness of times gone by.
He belonged here.
It was a strange thought she immediately dismissed. She was getting as fanciful as the historians in Aurelius’ books. It had been a trick of the hoary light, the shadows in the man’s scars, the weariness weighing on his shoulders.
Standing among the stones, being expected to wield, made Jasmine feel old too. How could she tell them it wasn’t safe for her to wield, that she didn’t trust her magic or herself? While Durne had a lot of faith in her and her abilities, she wasn’t sure he truly understood what it meant to be a wielding child of a wielder. This was her curse. A curse he had believed she could overcome.
They were waiting. Her gaze dropped to her snow encrusted boots. Brusan’s boots. Her feet swam in them, even with three pairs of socks. “This is a place of power,” she murmured. “It’s why my power—” She stopped. It wasn’t just that she’d made a new talisman out of the ocean. “It’s why our power is stronger here.”
Gley nodded. Finn’s expression turned to one of wonder, then he shook his head, the wonder turning to confusion. “I didn’t think such places existed. They were imaginings belonging to myth. There are some old texts that mention one such place from long ago. It was supposedly the birthplace of magic. It was meant to have been a long way west, somewhere vaguely south of Nouros. But no such place was ever found.”
Dras and Gley shared one of their looks, then Dras said, “This place is something different. It’s not good to linger here.”
Jasmine shifted. It was time to confess a truth. “Is that why I’m struggling to control my magic? This place’s influence on the power?”
“You’re struggling?” Finn asked.
His fear and worry weren’t helping.
When she didn’t answer him, his gaze went inward. “I too am struggling.” He offered her a sheepish grin.
She returned that grin and shook her head. They were a foolish pair. How many times would they have to keep learning the same lesson? She went to him and clasped his fingers. His touch was warm and reassuring. His smile gladdened her heart more than words.
“Need I remind you we don’t have time for this?” Gley said. “Wield. Now.”
“You don’t understand,” Jasmine said, still holding onto Finn. “This place … what it’s done to my magic … it’s frightening.” It was easier to blame the place than the truth. The place may have made it possible, but she had been the one to reach out and claim a new talisman. The entire ocean. Not just the Kranston Sea, but every ocean and sea on Erenna combined. They were all connected, and they were all hers to use. The thought of that connection pulled the magic to her, and a great rushing torrent filled her. “No,” she hissed and let it go.
Finn was staring at her, his eyes wide and shiny like glass. “How can you draw that much power from your talismans? This place’s influence couldn’t give you that much.”
She tried unlacing her fingers from his, but he wouldn’t let her go. “That’s what I’m saying. It is this place. It’s too much.” She was certain their location wasn’t at fault, though. She could draw the same amount of power anywhere in the world. More even, since what she’d drawn had been but a drop. Now she had two secrets she needed to keep from Finn.
“This place is what I need,” Gley said. “We don’t have the strength to fight the Beast anywhere else. To do what must be done, we must be here. Please wield.”
It wasn’t safe. “If I lose control, the Beast will consume my magic, and it will escape.”
“If you don’t, the Beast will destroy Finn, then it will destroy you, then it will escape anyway. Is that what you want?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Don’t act like a stupid girl.” Gley let out a misty breath. “This is our only opportunity. Here. Now. Together. We can defeat the Beast. If you wield.”
Still Jasmine hesitated. Memories haunted her — of unintentionally smearing a phantom against one of the Prize’s bulkheads, of throwing Finn off his feet and breaking his arm, of the dark visions that hounded her day and night, never completely going away. The hunger for more magic whenever she was near magic. A warning. A threat. If she didn’t have control, then she risked everything every time she wielded.
“I tried to avoid destiny once,” Gley said. “Never again. You and I are the same.”
If the girl thought insulting her was the way to go, she was wrong. “I’m nothing like you. I care about what happens to the people I love.”
“We both care too much.” Gley clasped her hands and stood stone still. “But we are also both our fathers’ children, which makes us Abominations.”
Jasmine gasped. How could the girl be foolish enough to speak such a thing aloud? In front of Finn. “You’re wrong. My father is Brusan. He is no wielder so I’m no abomination.”
Brusan had never looked more out of place than in that circle of monoliths. He offered Finn a hesitant nod.
Gley shook her head. “We both want to deny who we are, but we can’t. All we can do is accept our heritage. Your father is Kahld. It’s time you accepted that.”
Finn shook her fingers free of his. “You told me you were Brusan’s daughter.”
“I am.” The lie was all she had. Marcelo’s warning to keep that one secret from Finn chimed in her head. Marcelo had been right to warn her.
Finn paled, disgust crawling across his face as he backed away.
She didn’t have a contagious disease. She was still his Jasmine.
“Kahld had been a powerful man,” Gley said, merciless in her disregard. “His strength and intelligence remained unmatched for years. You got the best he had to offer, his power being the greatest of his gifts.”
“Shut. Up.”
But the girl wouldn’t shut up, and even if she did, it was too late. Finn had heard the truth. There was no taking it back, no pretending it didn’t happen.
“Embrace it, Jasmine. You are Kahld’s daughter.”
“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”
Dras rested his
hand on the hilt of his sword. With her gaze not leaving Jasmine’s, Gley waved him down with a quick flick of her wrist. A crooked sneer tugged on her lips. “Go ahead and try.”
“I’m not stupid.” Jasmine could tell when she was being provoked into wielding.
“Neither was Kahld.” Gley looked past her and stiffened. “Time has run out.”
Jasmine followed her gaze. Behind Finn, a phantom hovered. “Finn!”
Dras ran past her. Brusan was closer. With a large heavy hand, Brusan tossed Finn aside. In a daze, Finn lost his footing and fell in the snow. A second phantom appeared next to him, all darkness and boiling seas. A blade of smoke materialized in its shadowy hand. Unaware, Finn clambered to his feet.
“Do nothing,” came Gley’s voice next to Jasmine’s ear, “and Finn will die.”
Instinct took over. Jasmine gathered her power — swelling, rushing, dark and terrible. The ocean crashing against the coastline of Yactun surged and pounded through her. Briny life caught in the currents sang to her. Power tingled at her fingertips. Before she could release it, Gley took hold.
The course of her power changed direction. Instead of flinging aside the phantoms, it bent to Gley’s will. Just as the slave wielder had linked to his fellow wielder to help him search for Finn, Gley too had grown stronger through the link.
Golden light from nowhere and everywhere burned Jasmine’s vision. With their power connected, she could at last see Gley’s magic. It was strange and wild and ancient. It was like the power in the monoliths but warped in an unnatural way that weakened it. It lived in Gley, in her blood, bones and flesh, yet it was bigger than her. Vaster and older. This was why the girl didn’t need a talisman. She was her own talisman.
Power filled the surrounding monoliths. Ancient stones that watched and listened and absorbed. A gale blew through Jasmine. Cries rang out around her. Finn had collapsed. Dras had fallen to one knee. Brusan staggered. Weakness pulled at her limbs, dragging at her body. With the oceans as her talisman, how could that be? Then she knew. It was Gley drawing more power. From Jasmine. From the stones. From the cliffs and the oceans. From every living thing.