Chapter 6:

  Discovered

  After four days on foot, Ean confirmed what he already knew: he preferred walking to riding. They didn’t cover as many miles, and the packs were heavy, and his muscles were aching in completely different ways, but he had more time to practice his dances. And he was finally losing the bow-leggedness that came from riding. The only true downside was that he couldn’t hang back from the group anymore. By rescuing Flora, he had catapulted himself into the party’s good graces. Anytime he dropped more than ten paces behind, someone noticed. He was forced to keep up or face an inquiry about his health. Did his head hurt? Did he need a break?

  Flora was the friendliest of the bunch. Ean wondered if she felt indebted to him, or if she’d finally gotten comfortable in his presence. She still made moon-eyes at the Prince, and chatted with the others, but she spent a few hours each day walking with him. He was loathed to admit that her company wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She had a good voice for conversation, warm and full-throated, with a tendency towards breathiness. A woodwind voice, his mother would call it. Today Flora talked about her schooling—the classes she liked and disliked, the best and worst teachers, and the upcoming choice to graduate or continue her studies to become a High Mage.

  “It’s a lot of work,” she mused. “It’s not just manipulating the elements. It’s politics and history and healing and all the ancient languages. It’s a lifetime of learning.” She bent down to pick a handful of wildflowers from the side of the road. “Just getting into the academy at Balucia took a year of study, and then there was the year-long competition for my apprenticeship. Everyone wanted to be Aldine’s apprentice.” She laughed and shook her head. “I thought for sure I was going to get passed over. I’m not the strongest Fire Mage.” She shyly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

  Ean snorted. “That’s a load of horseshit.”

  Flora jerked her head toward him, her eyes wide. Ean couldn’t tell if she was offended or surprised.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I saw your hands smoke at the river,” he told her. “You were afraid, and the flames responded. It’s instinctual for you.”

  She didn’t respond, not right away, just toyed with the flowers she’d picked. “You’re not wrong,” she finally admitted. “I’m very good at making fire.” She raised her hands and flames shot up, consuming the bouquet. She brushed the ash off her fingers. “Fire comes easily to me. Easier than any other mage at the academy. That’s why Aldine chose me.” She glanced over at him. “What do you know about Dubmyrr?”

  “Not much,” Ean admitted. If he had a map, he might be able to point to it. It was a smallish island somewhere in the Duin Sea.

  “That’s where I was born,” Flora said. “Magic is outlawed there. The people think it’s evil. But even before I discovered my power, I was a pariah to my family. My mother, my father, and my eight siblings all have brown hair.” She tugged at one of her red curls. “My mother swore that she had an aunt who had red hair--—but so did the farmer down the road. My father accused my mother of sleeping with him. He liked to beat her for it, and me, when I was in his way.”

  “Were you the farmer’s child?” Ean asked.

  “I like to think so. The farmer seemed the good sort. He never beat his wife or children, and they always seemed happy, as happy as one could be in Dubmyrr.”

  “What’s it like there?”

  “Ugly,” Flora said promptly. “Hard earth, half-withered plants, dirty rivers. The sky is always gray, and the wind is always cold. My family lived in a rural town, where there was some semblance of freedom. I might have been safe there, but my father found me playing with the fire in the kitchen grate one day. It gave him the excuse he needed to get rid of me. He dragged me to the river.”

  Ean grimaced. He knew where her story would lead, and part of him was sorry for asking, but Flora’s words picked up speed, like they needed to get out, and so he kept silent as she continued.

  “I begged him not to, screamed for him to stop, but he held me under. It was so cold. I tried to call up the flames, but I was completely submerged, and he was too strong. I knew I was going to die.” She paused for a moment. “When I woke up, I was in a wagon. My mother was with me. She took me to the port and paid for my passage to the Glass Isles. She told me to leave… to never return.”

  She trailed off, ending her story even though Ean knew she was leaving much unsaid.

  “How old were you?” he asked.

  “Thirteen.”

  Ean nodded solemnly. Thirteen was too young to be alone in the world, but he knew of children who’d been abandoned even younger. At least she had her fire to protect her.

  Flora pushed the hair back from her face. “I suppose it will always be there, the fear of being punished for magic. The fear of being hated, being called wicked or cursed. It’s easier to hide it.”

  She met his gaze with a grim smile, and he returned it. He understood her disguise now.

  She laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. “But the fear of drowning doesn’t help with mastering the water element. If I’m to become a High Mage, I need to be able to manipulate all four.”

  He followed her change of subject. “How hard is it to become a High Mage?”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Some mages never master an element outside of their first. Some learn two, usually an adjacent element. I’m learning air right now.” She held out her hands. Her eyes squinted and her mouth went tight with concentration. A small whirlwind whipped around her fingers and then dissipated. “Sometimes I think I’ll never get them all.”

  “If you don’t think you can, you never will,” Roarke said, dropping back to walk with them.

  “I’d like to think I can…”

  Ean understood what she was saying. “I mastered Storm Dance first.”

  Both of them looked over, startled that he’d offered information about himself. To be honest, he was surprised as well.

  He reached up to point out the braid in his hair. “Storm Dance and then its partner, Lightning. I was eighteen when I got my mastery braid.”

  “That seems young,” Flora said, her brow knitted. “Is it young? I don’t know much about…” She trailed off, like she didn’t want to say “killing people”.

  “It’s very young,” Roarke concurred. He turned to Ean and his brow furrowed.

  Ean shrugged, trying to shake off the weight of his gaze. “I’m good with the Air dances. I’m close to mastering Wind and Whirlwind for my second braid. But I struggle with the Earth dances.” He glanced over to Flora. “A bit like learning the elements, maybe.”

  Up ahead, Asali moved into the scout position, taking over for Chadwick. She ran up the hill they were climbing to view the path beyond. Ean watched her pause at the top; her posture remained relaxed. He wasn’t expecting trouble, but it was nice to know she hadn’t found any all the same.

  “Are your dances like the elements?” Flora asked, pulling him back into the conversation. “Fire, water, earth, and air?”

  He shook his head. “No. Shadow-walking is based on the four strata of the world.”

  “Strata?”

  “The four foundations of the world that hold life,” he explained. “The fish in the sea, the animals on land, the birds in the sky, and the gods in the heavens.”

  They caught up with Leo and Chadwick who had stopped at a fallen tree that was blocking the path. Leo glanced speculatively between them and the log.

  “I’m not helping you move that,” Ean said pre-emptively.

  Leo frowned, but turned to Flora and offered a hand to assist her over the trunk.

  “My thanks,” she said, ducking her head as if to hide a blush. Ean didn’t see any color on her cheeks though. It was a sly flirtation, playing helpless when she could have burnt the whole thing up with a flick of her fingers.

  He rolled his eyes, vaulted over the trunk, and picked up his pace to pass her by. He was done with their conversation. He understood why she hid her power, but her affectation was beginning to grate. He caught up with Asali, who had stopped at the top of the hill. She waited for the rest and then pointed at the shallow valley below them.

  “There.”

  Ean followed her finger and spotted a small stream nestled in the trees. It was the first source of running water since Canus River and by the height of the sun, they had plenty of daylight to reach it.

  “We should camp there tonight,” Chadwick said.

  Leo nodded. “Agreed. Asali, care to catch us some dinner?”

  She handed her bag to Chadwick, keeping her bow and quiver. “I’ll be back before you set up camp.”

  She disappeared into the trees and Ean followed the rest of the party into the valley. They found a comfortable clearing and began the well-practiced routine of setting up camp. Leo and Roarke left to gather firewood. Chadwick began digging the fire pit; Flora started collecting dirty clothes for laundry. Ean, still preferring the solitary chores, grabbed the water skins to fill.

  The creek banks were heavily wooded and covered with brush. Ean picked his way through thick brambles to get to the water’s edge. The stream was shallow and slow moving, but it ran clear. Several flat rocks peeked above the surface. He squatted on the largest stone and set about emptying and washing the water skins. He glanced at the sun as he finished. It was still relatively early. He could get through several of his dances tonight. With that promising thought, he dunked the skins under water to fill and fumbled with the caps as he headed back to camp.

  He didn’t notice that Flora’s chatter and Chadwick’s laughter had stopped, not until he stepped into the clearing and saw Flora frozen beside his pack, his dirty clothes halfway in a pile with the rest. A water-stained note was in one hand—the torn-out page Ean had meant to burn. Chadwick leaned over her shoulder. Their heads snapped to him. Flora’s eyes went wide; Chadwick’s face went murderous.

  Fuck.

  Chadwick lunged with a shout.

  Ean tried to back-step, but Chadwick was too fast. He tackled Ean to the ground. His fist struck down, once, twice. The side of Ean’s face went hot with pain.

  “Traitor!” he shouted, pulling back for a third blow.

  Ean yanked his arm free and caught Chadwick’s fist as he swung it down. He bucked up, trying to knock him off his abdomen, but Chadwick didn’t budge.

  Ean only had rudimentary knowledge of non-lethal grappling. Shadow-walkers weren’t trained for it. If they got pinned, they were taught to bite off noses, poke out eyes, smash larynxes, anything it took to escape their opponent’s grasp. But Ean couldn’t kill Chadwick. And as much as Chadwick was trying to smash his face in, he wasn’t trying to kill him. Not yet, at least.

  So Ean didn’t go for his knives. Instead, he kicked a leg up and hooked his foot under Chadwick’s chin. He rolled up, pushing the bastard onto his back, and scrambled to his feet. Chadwick did the same and lunged again, this time in a boxer’s form.

  “Stop it!” Flora screamed. “Stop!”

  Chadwick didn’t. A one-two punch had Ean tripping backwards to avoid his fists. An uppercut clipped his jaw. Dark stars, how was he so fast? His cross was a thing of beauty, but Ean managed to duck in time, and finally settled into Rain Dance.

  Rain Dance was one of the water dances, fluid and flexing. He darted around, under, and between Chadwick’s blows. He slapped away Chadwick’s fists and slipped out of his holds. Chadwick hissed a curse and redoubled his efforts. Ean twisted around his punch, skipped forward, and landed a splatter of open-handed blows on Chadwick’s chest to push him back.

  Chadwick snarled. He leapt forward, striking out with a new flurry of blows, but anger made him sloppy. His shoulders pulled back before each punch, signaling his moves. Ean ducked and bent and blocked each blow, hoping Chadwick would tire himself out. But the bastard kept fighting, fueled by righteous fury, and Flora kept screaming.

  Ean wanted it to stop. He needed a minute to think, needed to come up with some way to explain the confession in his journal, some way to keep them from executing him outright. He saw his opportunity while bending backwards from a wild right hook. Chadwick had overextended himself. Ean slipped into his space, caught the left punch Chadwick sent at him, and smashed the blade of his hand against the side of Chadwick’s neck. It was a paralyzing blow. Ean usually followed it with a knife to his opponent’s chest. Instead, he stepped backwards. Chadwick dropped onto his hands and knees, coughing and choking.

  Ean pulled in a breath. He turned to Flora to tell her to shut up, right as Asali burst into camp, eyes tight as she scanned for danger.

  Ean instantly realized how bad it looked. Flora was in hysterics and Chadwick was on the ground, clearly incapacitated. Asali’s eyes went to him.

  “Wait—”