These are excerpts from By Winged Chair, the first book in the Mark of the Least series, a set of retellings of fairytales featuring main characters with disabilities. Originally published 2018.
Chapter 1
They say truth is the path to all ends, but maybe I really shouldn’t have told Madam Francine she looked like a squashed frog. I mean, she might have kicked me out because of the kitchen incident, but I’m pretty sure it was the frog thing.
Could anyone blame me? I could only listen to that particular spiel so many times. It’s not like I didn’t know I was unsuitable for marriage and no respectable family would want me to teach their children. Good thing I had a better plan in mind than being a wife or governess.
Of course, that plan didn’t include getting drenched on a train platform or being sent home with the most insipid of my former classmates as company, without the recommendation that would get me into the University.
Cecily, the insipid classmate, finished directing the porters to place our trunks beside the ticket office and turned back to me, her face telling me exactly what she was about to say. I settled my mouth and eyes into my coldest expression to stave off the hated words before I gripped my wheels and pushed myself down the platform after our belongings. Unfortunately, my glare landed smack in her bustle, without having any effect.
“Oh, Merry,” she said, her voice too soft, too sweet, like an overripe apple. “Here, let me help you.”
“No, thank you,” I said through my teeth. “I can do it myself. That’s why it has wheels, after all.”
She laughed as if I was joking and grabbed the back of my chair anyway. I bunched the fabric of my gown in my fists as she pushed me down the platform, through the billows of steam and soot, while one of the porters held an ineffectual umbrella over our heads.
We took cover under the eaves of the ticket office to await the arrival of the train that would carry me home in disgrace. Sheets of water fell around us, veiling the buildings that huddled close to the station in silver and black. The magic in the light globes lining the platform sputtered in the wet and cast flickering blue shadows across our faces.
Tradespoint Station, in the heart of the city, had mages on staff just to keep the light globes charged and shield spells covering the platform active, so passengers wouldn’t get wet. But out on the edge of Benevere, this station’s mage was either too lazy or they couldn’t afford one.
“Oh dear, they still haven’t caught him,” Cecily said over the rush of the rain, and I glanced up to see her frowning at a stained poster on the brick wall.
The boy in the photograph was my age, young and optimistic, and certainly not a mass murderer. But that was what it said just above the reward offering five hundred gold nikoli for his capture.
Robyn Hode
son of Lord Hode:
Dangerous mage
wanted for five murders.
I studied the grainy black-and-white picture again, searching for signs of madness in the boy’s eyes and finding none. How had he gone from this innocent school boy, flush with success, to a man capable of killing his entire family and evading the law?
“Well, he is supposed to be an excellent mage,” I said.
“Yes, but how hard can it be to catch one boy?”
“Mage,” I said since she didn’t seem to have heard me the first time. “As in a University graduate licensed to practice magic.” Lucky bastard, I almost added.
I tilted my head as I studied the photograph. This boy had achieved everything I wanted for myself, and then he’d lost it all in a few moments of violence. Were my dreams as fragile as his?
“What made him do it, do you think?” I asked.
But Cecily wasn’t listening anymore. Her attention had been caught by the two young men who dashed up to share our shelter. One of them stared at me and then my wheels, and my cheeks burned hot under his scrutiny. Yes, my rolling chair was odd, but he didn’t have to check to make sure I didn’t have gills or something.
I clenched my fists and turned to the other one, who had a mop of bright gold hair and an infectious smile. I relaxed, and my own lips curved upward in response. He was kind of cute. He said something to his friend before he stepped toward us. My breath caught, and I forced myself not to reach up and check my bonnet was straight. My pulse sped up as he drew nearer…
And then he stepped around me to talk to Cecily.
If my legs worked, I would have kicked myself. Why would he notice you, stupid? Even if I didn’t roll around in the worst fashion accessory ever, he still would have picked her over me. She looked like a porcelain doll, one that had never been played with, with her shiny blonde curls, rose petal complexion, and big, limpid brown eyes. Like a cow’s.
Sitting next to her, no one would think to give me a second glance with my dark hair, tamed in a braid, and skin prone to spots.
Finally, the boy’s friend dragged him away so they could dash through the torrent to board the train that waited next to the platform. I ducked my head as he went by, but he didn’t even glance my way.
“He was cute,” Cecily said. “And charming, wasn’t he?”
I gathered the ragged edges of my pride and stuffed my humiliation under a cold mask.
“I wouldn’t know,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t have time for boys.”
“You will one day.” She touched my arm and simpered. “You’ll meet a boy who’s dashing and handsome and doesn’t care about your legs.”
My fingers clenched on the wheels of my chair, and I let the familiar anger pool in my gut. It would protect me from the good intentions of oblivious people.
“That’s complete muck,” I said.
She gasped. “Oh Merry, what would Madam Francine say if she heard you use language like that?”
Cecily was about as bright as the cow I’d compared her to. I didn’t care what Madam Francine had to say about anything anymore. After the fiasco in the kitchen, she had been forced to close the school for the season. I had not been invited to return.
Add one more to the increasingly long list of schools I’d been kicked out of before I could ask for a recommendation. Guilt dragged at the back of my mind. Honestly, was it really that hard to be pleasant for a few months, make some friends, hold my tongue? I was supposed to be smart.
I turned away and saw a man carrying a nightstick, dressed in the blue and black uniform of Lord John’s Peacekeepers. The dark colors were supposed to be intimidating, but I thought it made them look like walking bruises. And I recognized this particular bruise with his badge of office swinging around his neck.
My eyes narrowed as tension spooled in my gut. What was Lieutenant Bowell doing here?
As he walked down the platform, the few people still braving the rain scattered before him until only Cecily and I, and an older gentleman farther down, were left.
The Peacekeeper sauntered toward the man, and I squinted in recognition. “Is that Professor Stetham?” I said.
Cecily glanced down the platform. “You would know better than I,” she said. “I never took any spellwork classes.”
Professor Stetham scowled and his voice raised in protest as Lord John’s toady crowded close. A storage shed occupied that end of the platform, and the Peacekeeper herded our teacher around its corner and out of sight.
I chewed my lip. The last time I’d seen a Peacekeeper take someone aside it had been Madam Francine. The confrontation had scared her so bad she’d been shaking when she caught me skulking in the kitchen.
I pushed myself out from under the eaves.
“Merry, what are you doing? Your bonnet will be ruined.”
“That’s the Peacekeeper who was with Madam Francine, and I want to know what he’s doing here.”
She stood there, dancing on the edge of the rain, before taking the plunge and coming after me, her annoyed expression illuminated by the light globes that lined the platform. Behind us, the train gave a sharp whistle, indicating its imminent departure.
“It’s none of our business,” she said, holding her arms over her head as if that would keep her dry. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
Probably. But that was what I was good at.
Pressure built in my eardrums, making my hands falter on my wheels. I’d never felt this outside of my father’s study, and I paused to rub them.
The light from the globes barely reached this end of the platform and Professor Stetham stumbled out of the darkness. He clutched a bloody gash in his arm, but even worse, terror filled his wide eyes. His gaze darted around the platform, and he jumped every time he encountered a wall or a bench or a shadow.
“Sir?” Cecily said, her voice quavering.
He lunged at me.
Cecily swallowed a shriek, but I didn’t try to pull my arm away from his grasp.
“Do you know?” he said. “Am I? Who am?”
“What?” I said.
He shook me. “Am I? I am? Who am I?”
His gaze raked my face. Nothing lurked behind the fear in his eyes. No sense. No identity.
I squinted at the three parallel slashes on his arm and a shaft of understanding made my hands shake. “Professor Stetham,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You’re Gregory Stetham. You taught me a water finding spell last week.” This couldn’t possibly be happening here. I had to be mistaken.
His jaw worked and he stumbled back. “Get away. What is—? What am I?”
Cecily held out her hand, but he staggered off down the platform, starting at every shape and form as if nothing was familiar.
“Is he mad?” Cecily asked. “Is there someone we should call to help him?”
I shook my head. He wasn’t mad. I knew that blank expression, as if someone or something had stripped him of himself. The theft of everything he was, the familiar pattern of his wounds…I recognized the signs. If I was right, there was nothing we could do for the professor now. And if I was wrong…
I had to be wrong.
I set my teeth and rolled around the corner the professor had come from. I thought I was prepared.
Beside me, Cecily choked.
Lieutenant Bowell gaped at us, a bloody handkerchief in his hand and an ominous stain across his dark uniform.
Behind him, two shadows shaped like men stepped from the murky twilight.
I sucked in a breath, my heart hammering behind my ribs.
Mist and smoke had coalesced to create impossibly solid nightmares that stared back at us with eyes like the burning coals of a banked fire. But they didn’t slink through the darkness of dreams where they belonged. They were here, lurking in a soggy street in Benevere.
My lips formed the name, but no sound made it past my closed throat.
Lieutenant Bowell bared his teeth and raised his arm to point at me. His words fell in the quiet between us like the cocking of a gun.
“Silence them.”
The nightmares slunk around the Peacekeeper.
I backed my chair up, eying the two misty forms, my hands trembling on my wheels. A loose board on the platform thunked as I rolled over it, and I shook my head to clear away the encroaching panic.
What was I doing? Outrunning these things wasn’t an option. And Papa always said there was no substitute for practical experience. So I raised my hands in preparation.
“Cecily, get behind me.”
No answer. I turned from the approaching threat to check on my classmate.
The one pelting away down the platform.
The train started to pull away from the station, and without a backward glance, Cecily grabbed her skirts and leaped up to one of the cars.
My mouth fell open. She was leaving me here? Her white face blurred as the train picked up speed and rumbled by.
A hiss caught my attention, and I whipped around, facing my unmaking alone. A wave of panic threatened to swamp me, but I swallowed it down, set my teeth, and raised my hands again, sketching symbols in the air that would draw vytl from the rain-soaked world around me. The power gathered, raising the hair along my arms, and I opened my mouth to speak the words of my spell.
A figure darted between me and the monsters. I yelped, yanking my hands up to release the spell half-formed. The vytl flared and splashed over my hands. I hissed in pain as the energy burned through my skin.
“Lans, get her clear,” a boy’s voice called.
Someone spun my chair around and called out from behind me in friendly desperation.
“Hold on!”
I didn’t have much choice.
* * *
I careened down the platform, my chair traveling faster than it ever had in my life, muddy water spraying up around me. My teeth rattled as we jounced over the wooden planks, and I prayed my wheels could withstand the abuse. At least long enough for us to get away, so I could kill the boy who’d interrupted my spell.
My unseen rescuer let go, and the momentum carried me through the open door of the station’s ticket office. I caught myself against a bench.
“Stay there until it is safe,” he called.
Until it was safe? Would the world ever be safe again? A railway employee snored behind the ticket counter, oblivious to the impossibility happening outside. I decided not to wake him. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him there were monsters out in the storm. I knew exactly what those things were but that was only because I was my father’s daughter.
I ignored the sting of my burned hands and peered around the door. From here I could see down the length of the platform to the tableau at the end.
My rescuer, a huge blond man, joined another man and a woman who stood facing the nightmares. Lieutenant Bowell lurked behind them.
The one who’d rescued me pulled a scabbard from his back and drew his greatsword before attacking. The woman took aim with a rifle. But my attention wasn't on the deadly dance of either weapon. My eyes were drawn to the silhouette beside them. A figure whose hands glowed with magic.
Chapter 2
I wasn’t some kind of damsel in distress, but then it wasn’t really a prince that had come to my rescue, either. More like a mismatched army.
The mage threw up his hand, and one of the creatures smashed into a magical shield. Its claws scrabbled at the clear, smooth surface—until the big man twisted and brought his blade down to sever the reaching hands.
The creature shrieked and staggered behind its companion for protection. I waited, knowing what would likely happen next.
Sure enough, another hand formed out of the mist of its wrist. All three of my rescuers dodged back, as if they knew even a scratch would leave them mindless and wandering like my professor. Almighty save us, how do you fight a shape-changer?
They didn’t seem surprised. The warrior exchanged a glance with the mage before he dodged around the morphing creatures to go after the Peacekeeper. He, at least, was flesh and blood.
I took a deep breath from the relative safety of the ticket office and raised my hands. I had a good line of sight on one of the monsters.
But before I could force my stinging hands into the proper forms, the mage at the end of the platform drew the symbols for a banishment spell in the air and the two creatures screamed as they disappeared from our Realm.
A shot rang out, and Lieutenant Bowell crumpled to the ground as my third rescuer stepped out from under a spitting light globe holding a rifle. The wavering light reflected from puddles of water and worse.
“What the—”
I jumped as the forgotten ticket agent pressed against the back of my chair to peer through the crack in the door. He swore and darted back to the desk where he scribbled a note on the comm spell that connected him directly to the police.
I glanced back into the gloom where my rescuers checked Lieutenant Bowell’s body. I should probably tell them law enforcement would be here soon.
I pushed out the door and the ticket agent gurgled behind me.
“Miss,” he said. “Miss, don’t go out there.”
I kept going. Because I was so good at listening.
It still poured. Halfway down the platform, Professor Stetham walked into a waist-high barrier, gawked at it in surprise, then walked into it again. I winced.
“Here, stop that,” the mage said from my right. He moved to keep the professor from walking forward. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
The young man reached for Professor Stetham’s arms, but my teacher swung around, eyes wide and blank, and struck the mage across the face, knocking his hat off. The mage grunted and raised his hands to protect himself from the flurry of blows. The big man who’d pushed me to safety stepped forward, but before he could intervene, the mage muttered three words in Old Valerian and held his hand to Professor Stetham’s chest.
My teacher went down like a broken toy. The young man caught him and eased him to the ground.
“Whyn, that was what help?” the big man said. His odd pattern of speech and the way he said his w’s like v’s told me he was from Ballaslav. He had short blond hair, and he’d cut the sleeves off his green jacket, leaving his arms scandalously bare. The hilt of a two-handed greatsword rose over his shoulder.
I blinked. Who even used a greatsword anymore?
“It’s just a stun spell,” the mage said, voice soft. “I didn’t want him to hurt himself.” He pushed dark hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand as water dripped from the end of his sharp nose.
My third rescuer, a woman with the long raven-black hair and gold skin of the Confederacy, hadn’t said a word yet. Despite her silence, she seemed just as competent as the giant who towered over her. It might have had something to do with the confident way she handled the bolt-action rifle slung over her shoulder.
The planks beneath my wheels creaked and the three of them glanced up. I was suddenly aware of my burned hands, sagging bonnet, and the wet wisps of my hair plastered to my face and neck. I swallowed.
“They’re gone,” I said. Well done, Marion. Very intelligent.
“They are,” the big man, obviously the leader of this little group, said. His eyes darted between me and his companions.
The mage peered at me with suspicion.
My gaze slid past him and settled on Lieutenant Bowell’s body.
“Is he dead?”
The big man stiffened as though preparing to defend himself and his companions. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Good.”
I turned my back on the Peacekeeper as the others exchanged a wary look, and I rolled over to Professor Stetham who lay unconscious on the wet platform.
He hadn’t been as good a teacher as Papa, but he hadn’t scoffed when I’d told him I wanted to go to the University. It was enough for me to like him. Too bad he’d never remember me or the spells he’d taught me.
“Someone will take him to a hospital,” the big man said.
“By then, we’ll be gone,” the mage said, grabbing his cap out of a puddle. He straightened up and shook water from his eyes.
I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t want to stick around and claim credit for getting rid of the Va—the monsters?”
The big man’s eyes narrowed.
“We don’t do it for the credit,” the young man said.
I stiffened at his tone. “Obviously you don’t know how to accept thanks gracefully.”
“I just meant we’re in a hurry.” He turned to his companions, dismissing me. “We shouldn’t waste any more time. I want to get back to report.”
I set my jaw, feeling the cold mask settle over my face. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a waste of time,” I said.
“Mushka—” the big man said.
“You’ll want to get out of here,” I said. “The rifle shot woke the ticket agent, and he sent a message for the police. They’ll be here any minute.”
I don’t know why I bothered warning them when they’d made it clear I was in the way. I guess because I knew what they had saved me from. And the big one didn’t seem that bad, despite his strange wardrobe.
But the other one, the boy with the dark hair and the eyes and that irritating expression, he…agh. All I'd wanted to do was compliment him on a brilliant piece of magic and warn him to watch out for other mages next time.
They had saved me and I was grateful, so instead of telling him hell would be a nice place for his summer holiday, I clenched my jaw and turned around to wheel back down the wet platform.
Bits of light flashed in the corners of my eyes, and I shook my head to clear my sight. It could have just been reflections from the light globes, but I knew better. And I didn’t have time to worry about seeing things that weren’t there.
My trunk still sat under the eaves of the ticket office next to Cecily’s, and I frowned at it. Normally a porter would have carried it for me but they’d all cleared out at the sight of the Peacekeepers, and I couldn’t imagine them coming back after that gunshot.
I reached down to tug on the handle and had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Blisters had formed on my raw, reddened hands. Not as bad as some vytl backlashes I’d seen, but Saints, it was painful.
“Mushka, your hands,” the big man said from behind me.
What was a mushka? I’d studied Old Valerian in school, not Ballaslavic, but it sounded like “girl,” maybe. Or “miss.” This guy seemed all right, so it probably wasn’t “snarky girl-child born just to annoy me.” He stepped around me and knelt to examine my burns. When he reached over his shoulder, the woman was there with a jar of ointment and some bandages she pulled from a case at her hip. The third one joined his companions and glowered.
“Lans, we don’t have time…” The boy’s complaint trailed off with a thwarted groan as the blond giant cast an annoyed glance at him and continued what he was doing.
I jerked my chin up. “I didn’t ask you to stop for me,” I told him. “I’d have been perfectly fine if you’d just kept going.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “Right, because when you’re not learning to sew, you’re slaying monsters.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“You aborted your spell and let the vytl burn you.”
“Only because you jumped in the way. Maybe you’d rather I incinerated you.”
“Are you even licensed?”
I snapped my mouth shut with a click you could hear in Torraca and my eyes went to the pin on his collar. He could have been a farmer’s son dressed in a belted green jacket and patched trousers with that cap pulled low over his face, but the pin belied his simple clothing. The four part circle stamped in cobalt meant he was a legal mage, and like the big man’s greatsword and the woman’s rifle, it told allies and enemies alike he was a force to be reckoned with.
He crossed his arms with a sanctimonious smirk when I didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Magic is dangerous, you know. There are rules and parameters. Safety precautions. That’s why we have the University. To teach mages to safely draw and manipulate vytl without hurting themselves or others. You wouldn’t try to practice medicine without having been to the Royal Academy, would you?”
I opened my mouth to tell him he’d need one of those doctors if he kept insulting my spell-casting, but my conscience stopped me. He was right. I wasn’t licensed. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to practice magic outside the house or without the supervision of a mage. I guess I’d thought saving my life was the exception.
And there was no way in hell I was going to tell him I could see magic. Not after Professor Stetham had laughed and told me even children knew vytl was invisible.
I snatched my hands back as soon as the big man had finished tucking the bandage together and whirled toward my trunk.
“Where are you going?” he said, eyes wide and concerned.
“Home.”
The moment Madam Francine had kicked me out, I’d started brainstorming new ways to get my recommendation. The first step was to get back to Papa.
“Alone?” he said.
I scowled at my luggage. “My escort made it very clear what lengths she would go to for me. I can’t stay here. If the police are coming, that means more Peacekeepers.” And Peacekeepers with a link to the DierRealms would be way too interested in what I knew.
I squared my shoulders and grabbed the handle of my trunk again, ignoring my blisters. I could do this as long as I took it one step at a time. Anything was better than giving in to the panic when I thought of having to ask for help.
“Here, mushka, let me.” Calloused hands tried to take the trunk.
“I can do it myself, thank you.” I had to believe that.
“I am sure you can. But that does not mean I can’t do it for you.”
I scowled up at him…and up and up. Saints, the man was as tall as a tree. No one had any right to be that tall.
“Where is your home?” he said.
The sudden question caught me off guard, and I found myself answering. “We live a few days south, where the trade road meets the River Liren.”
The rain had retreated to a steady drizzle and the light globes didn’t flicker so much anymore.
The big man cast a glance at the rest of his team. “It is on the way,” he said.
The younger man let out a gusty sigh. The woman didn’t say anything, but the giant must have been able to interpret those responses because he beamed back at me. “We are taking you home.”
My eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to do that.” Although, it would get me home before Papa and Nana even realized I was on my way.
“We do not have to. But we can, so we will.”
Just like that, this giant had dictated my immediate future. I hadn’t asked for help, so why was he offering it?
I gave him a suspicious once-over. “You’re not some kind of lecher, are you?”
I expected him to get angry, but he just laughed. “Not even a little. I am Lans Arayev, this is Vira-we Lagare, and that is Whyn.”
I glanced at the boy with no last name. He snorted and tapped his foot. I put my nose in the air and sniffed in response.
“You are…?” Lans asked.
“Merry,” I said. “Merry Janson.”
“Well, Merry, we can make this work. We have only the three horses, but someone can ride double.”
“My things,” I said and started to reach for the latch of my trunk.
“Do you see a wagon?” Whyn snapped.
“Whyn,” Lans said, the warning in his voice clear.
I stiffened my spine and glared at Whyn. Did he think I was stupid? “There are few things in my trunk that are precious to me, Master Whyn,” I said, giving him the proper title for a mage. “But I would like to remove a change of clothes at least before you toss it by the wayside. If it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Go ahead, mushka,” Lans said.
I leaned over and unlocked the trunk with the key in my carpet bag. I’d spoken the truth; there wasn’t much I would regret leaving behind. There were a few books that were irreplaceable which I changed for the novels in my handbag. I picked out the sturdiest dress I owned and folded it as small as possible. At least I was already wearing my traveling cape. Was there anything else I’d need down the road? Stockings, soap, a hairbrush.
I tried to shove everything into my carpet bag before it got soaked by the stream of water coming off the roof, but there was no way it would all fit. Slim hands, well-tanned by the sun, reached down and plucked my things from my lap.
“Here, I’ll take them,” Vira-we said. “There’s room in my packs. Don’t you wear a crinoline?”
“No, why?” I said, crossing my arms. What did she care about my underwear? I didn’t wear a corset, either, but I wasn’t about to explain they were too bulky and difficult to manage when I was in my chair.
“Most Valerian girls do, that’s all. Only the sensible ones don’t,” she said, flashing a smile at me. She, shockingly enough, was wearing a pair of trousers.
Whyn led three horses to the base of the platform. I hadn’t even seen him leave to fetch them. A glance over my shoulder told me he’d gotten rid of Lieutenant Bowell’s body as well. I didn’t want to think too hard about that.
“Here, mushka, I will lift you. The chair has to stay here.”
My stomach tried to crawl up my throat, and I swallowed. “What? No, I need it.”
“No wagon,” Whyn reminded me from the other side of his horse.
Ice crept up my numb legs and settled below my heart. I lost control over my face, and the mask that kept me safe fell away. I shook my head. “Then I’m not coming.”
“I don’t believe this,” Whyn said.
“You can’t take my chair away.” Panic tore the words out of me. “I can’t move without it. I can’t even crawl.”
I bit my tongue before I could reveal more of myself to these strangers and took a deep breath. If I didn’t calm down and get my mask in place, I’d never be able to cover up the confession I’d just made.
“Here, mushka.” Lans handed me a clean handkerchief. He didn’t tell me not to cry, or to calm down. He didn’t utter false reassurances. He just solved the most immediate problem.
“We can bring it,” Vira-we said. “Nara can drag it behind her. My clan does it with our tents.”
I regarded the quiet woman and hoped my gratitude wasn’t leaking out from under the cold defensiveness I’d perfected over the years.
“We’ll go slower,” Whyn said.
“We would already be going slower,” Lans reminded him. “Will Nara be able to carry both of you and the chair?”
Vira-we pulled rope from her packs. “At the pace we’ll be going? Of course. And Ax has all he can handle with you and that sword, so don’t even volunteer.”
They didn't even suggest putting me with Whyn. Lans probably wouldn’t have been able to take the bickering.
Vira-we started tying ropes to the strange straps on her saddle, and Lans held out his arms again.
With surprising gentleness, he slipped his hands under my legs and behind my back and lifted me into the air. I stifled a gasp. I’d been lifted by many men: Papa’s steward, the porters at various schools, a veritable buffet of doctors. They had all grunted and hoisted me like a sack of flour. None had lifted me with the ease of immense strength, nor to the height of a tree branch. Lans’s arms closed around me, and I felt like a knight atop his warhorse. Safe, untouchable.
“I will hold you till Vira is finished rigging your contraption,” he said.
My lips tipped in an involuntary smile.
Vira-we eased my chair down the platform steps and positioned it so the back faced the horse’s haunches. She tipped it until the front wheels no longer touched the ground and tied the backrest with the ropes so it balanced on the big wheels I used to steer. When Vira-we led the horse forward, my chair rolled along behind.
“Looks good,” she said.
“We should get out of here before the Peacekeepers come,” Lans said, stepping with me down the stairs.
“What about…?” I peeked back at Professor Stetham. There was nothing we could do for him—I knew that better than anyone—but it didn’t feel right to leave him lying in the rain.
Whyn followed my gaze guiltily before dragging the professor over and propping him against the wall under the eaves. The mage gave him one last ineffectual pat before he swung into his saddle and reined his horse around to face us.
“If I sit in front, will you be able to stay on?” Vira-we asked before she mounted.
I swallowed. I hadn’t been on a horse since I was fifteen, and that last ride had been the end of my life as I’d known it. I tried to breathe through the stranglehold on my lungs. After making a scene about my chair there was no way in hell I would balk over riding a horse. Besides, we wouldn’t be taking any jumps with my chair strapped behind.
“I think so,” I said. “If I can hold onto you.”
The corner of her mouth quirked up. “You can hold on as tight as you like,” she said.
Lans settled me in the saddle behind Vira-we without even a grunt of effort. My wet skirt bunched around my legs, leaving my calves uncovered. Madam Francine would be appalled.
I wrapped my arms around Vira-we’s waist and tried to pretend I felt as confident as I looked. Lans was already on the big gray horse that had been waiting for him.
“Move out,” he told them.
“Nara, chirek,” Vira-we said.
The horse moved forward and followed the others out of town and down the road that led south and plunged into a dark line of trees. The forest stretched between us and home, a dense barrier that I’d passed through many times but had never felt this threatening. My chair rumbled along behind us, the noise a comforting reminder it was still there. I wasn’t helpless.
Chapter 3
It didn’t take long for me to realize I’d put myself completely at the mercy of strangers. Although, after the day I’d had, teaming up with a trio of mysterious monster hunters seemed like the most normal thing in the world. With exhaustion and the aftermath of the attack dragging at my limbs, I couldn’t bring myself to care how little I knew about my new companions.
I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I already liked Lans. And Vira-we was quiet in a soothing kind of way.
Whyn’s silence, on the other hand, was more on the brooding side of the scale. There was something behind the dark expressions—something familiar in his features—as if I’d seen him before. But I couldn’t imagine forgetting such an unpleasant boy. He would stare ahead of him as if the rain, or the road, or life in general had personally offended him. Occasionally, his thick brown hair strayed across his forehead and fell into his eyes until he flicked it away with an impatient hand.
I jerked away from the thought that he wasn’t bad looking. He was an ass. Even if he was an ass with brilliant spell-casting.
And a cute rear end. Saints in a midden, what was wrong with me?
It must be because he was a mage. And how sad was that? The only mages’ approval I needed were the ones at the University.
We didn’t stop until well after nightfall. By then I was falling asleep on the back of the horse. I clung to Vira-we from instinct, and when Lans tried to lift me down, I jerked awake.
I glanced around the clearing and bit my lip. I don’t know why I expected a hotel. These didn’t seem like the kind of people who were bothered by wilderness. But I’d never spent the night outdoors and it hadn’t even occurred to me that we might.
I suppressed the shivers that crept up my arms. I could do this. Chair or no chair, I was not the kind of girl to demand feather mattresses and a roof.
The three of them set about making camp with an ease that told me of a long history together. Lans erected a canvas tarp so we wouldn’t have to sleep in the rain, while Vira-we laid out their bedrolls, and Whyn built the fire.
I pretended not to watch as the mage gathered light in his fingertips. He turned his hand over and spoke a word in Old Valerian. The light dripped from his fingers down across the damp wood, a streak of flame following in its wake until our campsite was filled with the smell of smoke and the crackle of the fire. Whyn dusted his hands off and stood.
I hadn’t wanted to be impressed by the surly mage, but he was very good. Papa loved to tell his friends my first words had been the fire spell, but I’d never seen anyone manage it with such finesse.
Since he wasn’t paying any attention to me, I didn’t feel so bad about staring at him. Why couldn’t he have been easier to talk to? Whyn couldn’t be more than a year older than me, and he was a mage. We could have traded spells and techniques. But I liked the big brawny swordsman so much better who probably hadn’t had a moment of helplessness in his life.
As the rest of us settled down to eat our cheese and salted pork, Lans squatted at the edge of our clearing, dipping his hands in a bucket of water. Under his breath he muttered in his own language. Papa’s steward, Yurri, was Ballaslavic so I recognized the Rites of cleansing and forgiveness performed before every meal. I never really paid attention to religious beliefs except as a way to fit in, but Lans’s ritual seemed more complicated than Yurri’s.
By the time he joined us, and Vira-we handed him a plate, my eyelids drooped, and I cast a longing glance at the bedrolls. “Is it all right if I go to sleep?” I said.
Whyn clutched his blanket closer, as if I would leap across the fire and snatch it from him.
Lans gave him a warning glower and said, “Of course, Merry.”
“You can share my blankets,” Vira-we said.
I tried to ignore Whyn and wheeled myself closer to Vira-we’s bedroll. From there I could lean down and tumble off the chair and onto the ground. Down was easy. I’d worry about getting back up in the morning.
Before I rolled over, I caught Whyn’s pained expression out of the corner of my eye. I turned my back on him and curled up as small as I could. What was with the funny looks, like the mere sight of me gave him indigestion? I couldn’t help it if I made people uncomfortable, but I wished they would keep their awkwardness to themselves.
His contempt seeped past my defenses and settled into my bones. If Whyn was so disgusted by me, what would the mages at the University think?
Lights flickered in the corners of my eyes, reminding me what was at stake. Only the University mages could help me. I couldn’t afford for them to turn me away before I’d even told them about seeing impossible magic.
I waited until the others had settled for the night and Vira-we’s breathing was slow and steady behind me before I let the tears trickle down my face. It was easy to sob without noise. I’d had a lot of practice, after all.
* * *
The rain from the night before had receded, giving way to a gray autumn day. The wet road sucked at the horses’ hooves and the slate colored clouds loomed too close above, but at least we weren’t soaked.
Whyn had hurried us through breakfast that morning, scowling at my chair, which hadn’t done anything to him. He must want to get me out of the way so they could go back to hunting monsters. Well, I’d be happy to oblige him. I didn’t have time for monsters anyway.
Around mid-morning, Lans called out he was hungry, and I watched from under my lashes as Whyn reached back to his saddlebags. He whispered a spell and tossed a package of dried fruit at Lans. It floated across the intervening space, as if on an errant breeze, and Lans plucked it from the air.
“Show off,” I muttered. If Vira-we heard me, she pretended not to.
Saints, could anyone be more insufferable than Master No-Last-Name? Just that morning I’d caught him staring at me with the strangest expression as I’d combed out my tangled curls. Like I’d snuck a lemon into his breakfast. Then he’d had the audacity to stare as I pulled myself into my chair, a feat that always left me sweaty and cranky even without an annoying audience. Yes, he’d offered to help, but only as an afterthought. Maybe as an homage to his mother. Saints bless the woman in her suffering.
By all rights I shouldn’t even spare a second thought for the man. But I’d never been able to ignore a fine piece of magic. My levitation spell always wobbled with ugly hesitance even if it got the job done. Papa said I was a perfectionist, but Whyn’s casting was grace incarnate compared to mine. A small, secret place inside me hoped some of that perfection would rub off on me.
I turned my attention to the dripping trees, ignoring the way my gaze drifted back to the mage in front of us without my say-so.
Through the trunks I caught a glimpse of a group of sawyers heading to work, their thin, flexible saws carried across their shoulders. I could hear the song they whistled long after they were out of sight.
By mid-afternoon flashes of lightning lit up the dark sky in the east, heralding another fall storm. I huddled closer to Vira-we, drawing my cape tighter and preparing myself for another drenching. I didn’t feel comfortable enough with the quiet woman to call her Vira the way Lans and Whyn did. But I had no problem keeping her back dry while she soaked up the rain from the front.
So I didn’t see why we stopped in the middle of the road. As Vira-we reined Nara in, I sat up and peeked over her shoulder.
A small, black carriage lay overturned in the ditch beside the road.
Warning prickled in my spine as Lans and Whyn dismounted to get a closer look. Movement caught my gaze. A woman sat propped against a wheel, gaping at the forest with fearful, darting eyes. Blood and mud stained her cream-colored dress and her blank eyes matched Professor Stetham’s at the station. My three companions shared a grim glance.
“Is it what I think?” Vira-we asked.
Lans’s lips thinned. “It is.”
“I really hate how they leave them like this,” Whyn said, striding closer to the woman. “They can’t take care—”
A gray hand shot out from under the carriage and grabbed Whyn’s ankle. I screamed as it yanked him off his feet, but Lans was there, sword already drawn. With an overhand swing, he chopped the hand off at the wrist before Vira-we had even brought her gun to bear. Whyn scrambled back and lurched upright beside Lans.
The shape-shifting creature rushed out from under the carriage, a new hand forming as it surged forward. It took us too long to realize it wasn’t headed toward Whyn and Lans. It was coming for Vira-we and me.
No. When I met its flame-colored eyes, I knew it was coming just for me.
I clutched Vira-we’s waist as she swung her rifle like a club, deflecting the creature’s attack. Her legs tightened and Nara danced out of the way of the claws. Whyn cast a shield between us and the creature, and it turned on him with a shriek of rage.
“Where’s the handler?” Vira-we said to herself. “There’s always a handler.”
“There.” I pointed to a Peacekeeper, who hid behind the wreckage of the carriage.
“Lans,” she called.
“I see him. Whyn, take care of that thing. Vira, protect Merry.”
Vira-we drew back the bolt of her rifle and wedged the butt against her shoulder. Lans ran to cut off the Peacekeeper’s escape.
The creature swaggered through our Realm with alarming arrogance. Despite the fact that this was only the third one I’d ever seen, I knew the sight well. The gray, amorphous body that shifted to suit the situation, the glowing eyes fixed on me, were all as familiar as the desk in Papa’s study, but I’d only ever read about them before. Even Papa had never seen one in the flesh. Or whatever it had in place of flesh.
Unlike the creatures at the station, this one left its Peacekeeper to fend for himself. It snarled at Whyn, who kept it cornered, before it flung itself at the shield, trying to get to Vira-we and me. Whyn spread his fingers and shouted a banishment spell.
Nothing happened.
He tried the words again.
“Get rid of it, Whyn!” Lans had finished with the Peacekeeper and stood on guard with his blade angled in front of him.
“I’m trying!” Whyn’s expression shifted from shock to horror as he cast the spell over and over again and realized it wouldn’t work.
The creature flung itself against the walls of its invisible cage, its claws scraping against the magic. Whyn stepped back and sweat broke out on his brow as he tried to hold the shields against the onslaught.
My lips parted, and I sucked in a breath.
He didn’t know any other ways to get rid of it. Saints, they only had one defense against these things.
And through a stroke of luck, they happened to be traveling with one of the only people in the world that knew another one.
With the creature trapped behind Whyn’s shield, I had time to stretch my bandaged hand toward the shadow. I drew the shape of the spell in the air, and with a sharp word, I severed its link to this Realm. It disappeared with enough force to make my ears pop.
Chapter 4
My companions stared, as if they expected the creature to re-materialize out of the patch of air I’d banished it from. Then Whyn shook his head, breaking their reverie, and he and Lans mounted. The one surviving woman had fled when the creature showed itself and a quick search of the surrounding area proved she was long gone, so we didn’t stick around to witness any more nightmares.
Unnerving silence took the place of cheerful caution as our small party trundled down the road as fast as the horse could drag my chair. The questions were bound to come sometime; I couldn’t avoid them after that display. And I had plenty of my own to ask as well.
As the gray day gave way to gray twilight, Lans and Vira-we debated the wisdom of stopping for the night. The attack had obviously been a trap, with a scene laid out to make us stop and the creature that had come after me specifically. Lans didn’t want to risk anything else creeping up on us while we slept, but Vira-we pointed out that even if we wanted to go on all night, the horses would need rest. Lans’s lips thinned as he gazed at the road behind us but finally he nodded.
Silver stone glinted between the trunks as Lans led us toward the tumbled walls of a ruined tower. My eyes widened as we passed under a crumbling arch, and my fingers itched to reach out and touch the history standing right in front of me. Moss grew over the blocks and bushes sprang from the cracks, but I could still tell there had once been eight sides to the tower.
The octagonal shape told anyone who knew their history this had been a watchtower of the Vemiir Empire. But like most of the Empire, it had collapsed during the Second Darkness, well before even the ancient enchanters had walked Térne.
Lans and Vira-we set up camp against the parts of the walls that still stood, but Whyn jumped from his horse and disappeared into the forest without a word of explanation. After the attack, he’d seemed haunted, and every time he’d glanced at me, he’d flinched.
“Is he all right?” I asked after he had been gone for half an hour. The bedrolls were all laid out and the fire stood waiting to be lit.
“He is fine,” Lans said. “I will get the flint.”
“No, don’t bother.” I held my bandaged hand over the pile of firewood. A spark glowed in the middle of my palm, throwing splashes of light and shadow onto the crumbling stones around us. I tipped my hand to let the spark fall and ignite the damp wood. Smoke rose up to obscure the campsite.
When the air had cleared, Whyn stood at the edge of the firelight, his fingers fidgeting with something I couldn’t make out in the dark.
He nodded at the fire. “That’s very good, Miss Janson.”
I hid the surge of pleasure his words gave me and shrugged as if licensed mages complimented me all the time. “It’s just the fire spell.”
“It’s not just that. You got rid of that thing earlier.”
I let out my breath. There it was. The accusation, and under it, a question. I’d known it was coming, and I decided not to duck. “You mean the Vachryn,” I said.
All three went still when they heard the matter-of-fact way I named the monster.
Ever since the train station I’d been avoiding the thought of the creatures and what I knew about them. I couldn’t afford to be pulled into this mess. But I couldn’t afford to be ignorant either. The incident with Madam Francine, the men at the station, and now the attack on the road. Despite the impossibility, the Vachryn were here and they were hunting, and Lans and his companions were already up to their green jackets in it somehow.
Lans’s light eyes pinned me from across the fire. “What do you know about demons?” he asked softly.
No ducking, I reminded myself. “Well, they’re not demons,” I said. “That’s just what people who don’t know better call them. Demons, devils, evil spirits. But really, they’re shape-changers from the DierRealms. They’re called the Vachryn. Near as we can tell, it means ‘the Eaters.’”
It wasn’t completely unexpected that people thought of them as demons. Valeria had a history of distrusting anything it didn’t understand. The Realms that paralleled Térne literally translated as “strange world” and the creatures that lived there “strangelings.”
“That is more than most schoolgirls should know,” Lans said. For the first time since I’d met him, his voice rumbled with suspicion.
“You think she’s working with them?” Vira-we asked.
I held my breath, instinct telling me not to make any sudden moves. I’d pegged my companions as the good guys, but that wouldn’t matter if they thought I was one of the bad ones.
“No, she can’t be.” The reprieve came from an unexpected quarter. Whyn crouched beside me, and I couldn’t help gaping at him. He slipped something back into his pocket. It looked like a child’s toy. “That was an ambush, and the Vachryn was trying to get to her. Not us.”
“True,” Lans said. The tension left his face and Vira-we’s hands relaxed on the butt of her rifle. Muscles still jumped in Whyn’s jaw, but he no longer scowled at me.
“Do you have any idea why you’re a target for the Peacekeepers, Miss Janson?” he said.
“Whyn, I think you can call me Merry,” I said. “The others do.”
Whyn flushed as if I’d caught him making a beginner’s mistake with a spell.
“Never mind that,” Lans said. “Why would the Peacekeepers be after you?”
“I have no idea,” I said. The thought that those things were hunting me sent a shiver down my spine. “I have no idea why the Vachryn are even here. There are places where the DierRealms touch Térne and Dierlings can come through, but not very often and never in these numbers. But I think you have a better grasp of their purpose than I do.” I raised an eyebrow at Lans.
“Why do you think that?” he said, expression noncommittal.
I rolled my eyes. “You were there at the station and seemed to know what you were doing. I think you’re hunting the Vachryn. Or the Peacekeepers. Or both. I’m still fuzzy about that part.”
They met each other’s eyes as if checking with one another, and I sighed.
“I thought we’d decided I’m not a threat?” I said. “Besides, what could I possibly do against you?”
“It is not what you can do; it is who you can tell,” Lans said.
“Oh please, I must be the most overlooked person in Valeria. People think because my legs don’t work, neither does my brain.”
Vira-we’s head jerked up, and she stared off into the trees like a hound sniffing for a fox. “One comes,” she said.
Lans took in our camp and finally his blue eyes settled on me. “We cannot run,” he said. “Whyn?”
“You can’t just snap at me and expect a higher-level spell to be prepped and ready to go,” Whyn said with a scowl, but he stood and raised his arms anyway.
“Then how is it you always have one at your fingertips?” Lans huffed a laugh but his nervous glance around the ruins belied his words.
Whyn didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and began whispering in Old Valerian, laying out the groundwork he’d need to pull vytl from the world.
A branch snapped in the darkness outside our circle of firelight, and I jumped. Lans and Vira-we stood, readying their weapons.
“Do not worry, Merry,” Lans said under his breath. “Whyn will create a—”
“A Between Pocket,” I said for him. “I can see it. Are you sure about this?” I asked the mage.
Whyn spared a moment from his casting to crack an eyelid and glare at me. Lines of vytl gathered and flowed toward the mage, delineating the edges of a spell I’d never tried before. Mostly because my father would kill me if I did.
Firelight flickered against the tumbled stones and a night swallow darted across the ruined archway.
A voice spoke far too close to our corner of the woods. “Where did you see them?”
“There’s light over there.”
I glanced at the spell taking shape and my breath caught. Too slow.
Lans’s grip creaked on the hilt of his sword.
My jaw clenched, and I reached out and spoke the words that would gather the vytl that passed me, weaving it into a more efficient strand. Whyn grunted, either impressed or nonplussed, but he didn’t pause.
A hand grasped the stone wall of our shelter as pressure built in my eardrums, and Whyn’s spell took us out of the Realm.
The Peacekeeper came around the corner, triumph morphing to confusion as he surveyed us.
“Well?” another voice said.
“I don’t know what happened,” he said. “They were right here.”
I blew out my breath as the two Peacekeepers stepped through Lans as though he didn’t exist.
Lans touched his chest and frowned. “Da’ermo, I hate this spell.”
I glanced back at Whyn who had taken a seat on the ground and wrapped his arms around his head to shut us out. I’d have been insulted if I hadn’t understood exactly how much concentration it took to hold one person between Realms let alone four, their horses, and all their possessions.
“Who are they?” I asked as one of the Peacekeepers kicked at the dirt inches from the fire.
“You’ve heard of Saint Redemption,” Lans said. It wasn’t a question. And it acknowledged that I might know a little of what I was talking about.
“Saint of Mages,” I said.
“These are his followers. They devote their lives to worshiping the Almighty with magecraft.”
“But that’s harmless,” I said. “I mean, even I’ve made Redemption’s Pledge before. ‘My power is perfect weakness.’” I’d never really understood the phrase that went along with the Pledge. What did weakness have to do with a mage’s power?
Lans cocked his head in question, and I shrugged. “I’m not saying I’m particularly religious. Lots of mages Pledge to Redemption. Especially researchers.”
A Peacekeeper craned his neck to peer around a piece of the ruins right next to me, and I leaned away. We might have been as unsubstantial as ghosts to him, but I still didn’t want to test the theory with my own flesh.
“It is those very researchers who are the problem,” Lans said. “They experiment with things that should remain untouched.”
“But the Duke’s laws keep them restricted,” I said. “They can’t do anything truly dangerous because he…” I trailed off as I realized the problem with that.
“The Duke is missing,” Vira-we said. “Lord John has ruled Woodshire for almost two years.”
“He let a group of experimenters split off to make an Order of Redemption. Lord John thought to harness them instead of leash them,” Lans said. “He created the Peacekeepers and filled their ranks with members of the Order. To their leader, he gave the post of Sheriff.”
The Peacekeeper nearest me with a good smattering of white in his hair and craggy lines across his face rummaged in his coat and pulled out his badge of office. Up close, it looked like a large coin, but instead of King Nikolas’s head, this had words stamped into the copper surface.
A spell-focus.
“Maybe my beast can tell us where they’ve gone,” he said and spoke the trigger words.
A misty shadow formed and uncoiled from the coin in his hand, spilling onto the ground before it stood gray and forbidding in the middle of our campsite.
“I’m hungry,” it said.
I jumped. I didn’t know the Vachryn could speak.
The craggy Peacekeeper crossed his arms. “You’re always hungry. I’ll find you a nice peasant after you fulfill your side of the contract.”
“Peasants are dull,” the Vachryn said, turning to survey the surroundings. “Their lives don’t make for good memories.”
“You find the girl we’re hunting,” the Peacekeeper said. “And you can feed on her.”
I swallowed and glanced at the others. Lans glared at the intruders, but his hands remained relaxed on his sword hilt. He trusted Whyn to keep us hidden, so I forced myself to do the same.
The Vachryn took a few steps on all fours and stopped. It turned, and I found myself staring into its orange eyes. Streaks of red and brown drew me to the center where a human’s pupil would be. The Vachryn had only a pinprick of red, where the lines of its eyes met.
Almighty, the Vachryn were used to traveling between Realms. Could it see me where I sat between Térne and the abyss?
The Vachryn blinked, breaking that compelling gaze, and turned back to the Peacekeeper.
“That’s not how this works,” it said, stalking toward its handler. It stood and crowded him against the crumbling wall. “You are the ones who do the hunting. We…” It lowered its head to sniff at the Peacekeeper’s collar. “Intimidate, persuade, and feast.”
The Peacekeeper’s eyes widened before he pushed against the thing’s chest. “Then you’re no help here. Get back in your cage.”
The Vachryn opened its mouth to say something, but the Peacekeeper spoke two words and the shape-changer hissed as it was drawn back through the gate the spell-focus created.
“So much for that idea,” the other, much younger, Peacekeeper said with a smirk.
“Shut up. Let’s go. They’re not here, and we’re wasting time.”
“They’re partners,” I said as the Peacekeepers retreated through the forest. “Well, sort of.” The relationship hadn’t looked particularly comfortable for either of them.
“The Order knew that with enough study anyone can reach across Térne's barriers and summon dya’vals,” Lans said.
I bit my lip so I wouldn’t say they weren’t devils again. “And they picked the worst Dierlings they could find,” I said, shaking my head. Papa had spent years researching the DierRealms just to prevent this kind of mishandling. He’d be furious when I told him what was happening.
“Let’s put out the fire,” Lans said. “I believe we can stay here tonight, but only if we are cautious.”
Vira-we scattered and buried the remains of the logs with a camp shovel, making sure the smoke had cleared and the embers cooled before Lans touched Whyn’s shoulder. The mage unraveled his spell while I peered anxiously into the dark beyond our walls. The forest remained quiet, our hunters gone if not forgotten.
“I don’t think I can do that again anytime soon,” Whyn said with a hitch in his voice. He shivered in his sweat-drenched shirt.
“We should be safe enough without the fire,” Lans told him. “I will take the first watch and Vira the second. You will not have to protect us again.”
I rubbed the goose bumps along my arms. I wouldn’t feel safe until the walls of the manor closed in around me, Nana had wrapped me in a hug, and Papa knew there were people out there summoning the Vachryn. But Whyn was ready to keel over and wouldn’t be getting on a horse again tonight.
“Does Lord John know what they’re doing?” I said, turning away from the forest. “Does he know the Vachryn eat people? They suck the memories out of them until there’s nothing left inside, and whatever’s left can’t form new memories. Professor Stetham at the station; the woman with the carriage. They’ll never remember who they are or have the chance to find out.” It was that last part that scared the muck out of me. Losing who you were was bad enough, but not being able to create new memories, or learn…
“If he does, he does not care,” Lans said, handing around some dried meat and bread he pulled from his bags. “We seem to be the only ones willing to do anything.”
Whyn took his portion and stuffed it in his mouth, ignoring the propriety I’d seen him value the night before.
I regarded the three figures in green. “So, you are hunting them. Why?”
Lans hesitated, meeting my eyes. I held his gaze.
“We are Disciples of Saint Wonderment,” he finally said. “I guess you could call us—”
“Monks,” Vira-we said.
Lans pouted. “I was going to say Holy Defenders.”
I hid a giggle behind my hand. “You? Monks?”
“It takes all kinds.”
“But Wonderment is the Saint of Reason,” I said. “I thought his followers were all scholars and philosophers. You’re warriors.”
“Whyn was schooled at the University,” Lans said. “I am Viona Uchenye, a sword poet, and Vira is an oral historian of the Confederacy of Clans. We are well suited to the Way of Reason.”
“And scholars might be the only ones who have the resources to fight an enemy unknown to this Realm,” Whyn said.
All the more reason to get home and introduce them to Papa. In fact, I didn’t know why they hadn’t tried to contact him already. I struggled to roll myself across the bumpy ground to grab a blanket. The night was cold without the fire.
“Isavit,” Lans said with a nod. “But now we have another problem.” He gestured to Whyn. “Why did your spell not work today?”
Whyn shook his head. “I don’t know. It always has before.”
I’d been afraid of this. I held up my hand. “Wait. You mean you’ve always used the same spell to banish the Vachryn?”
Whyn pursed his lips and tapped his fingers against his knee. “Of course. Why not?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because they might be vicious and focused on eating, but they’re intelligent. They’ll learn from their defeats. You need to vary your attacks so they don’t know what to expect.”
“You sound like a professor at the University,” Whyn said. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a mage?”
I clenched my teeth, and my shoulders hunched. “I’m not. I know several spells and a lot of theory, but I’m not licensed.”
He turned away, nodding as if it was easy to believe I didn’t know what I was doing.
I wanted to spout off everything I knew and wipe that look off his face. But I couldn’t let myself get sucked in. The University only accepted fifty new students a year, and I was running out of time to be one of those fifty. And it wasn’t like there were many other ways to learn what the lights and flickers I saw were. No one could see magic, so the fact that I could was bad. Right?
They would just have to ask Papa to help them in their “holy crusade.”
“My father studies this stuff,” I said. “You should really talk to him.”
Whyn patted my arm. “We can certainly ask his opinion,” he said. “But we have the best minds in the country working on the problem already. I doubt he can offer anything new.”
Whyn’s words stabbed at me, and I turned away. Obviously he wouldn’t have accepted my help anyway. He was just waiting to get rid of me.