Fly by Midnight (9 page)

A weapon was really just an extension of the witch handling it. Witches used many devices to channel magic—a wand, a staff, or even a ring could be used to channel a spell at another witch or object. Honora laid out her arsenal on the weight bench for Slader to examine. She’d brought her trusty short staff, her new knife, and a wand. Not a lot, but enough, especially for a flyer. Her flying skills and physical strength were her greatest weapons. She trained hard to stay in shape. The one area in her repertoire where she was lacking was combat magic.

“What do I need to know?” Honora asked after giving Slader the rundown on the case.

Slader rubbed his chin. “A combat magician will use everything against you, especially your strengths and weapons. They practice jump spells, kicking spells, shielding, and blocking spells.” Dressed in a short-sleeved black T-shirt and sweatpants, he held a thick wooden staff in his hands.

“That’s doable.”

“The warden will be hard to get close to and even harder to talk with. He’ll spellcast first and ask questions later. He’ll know everything I’m going to teach you and more. He’ll also probably have a guardian with him, so most likely you won’t even make it to him. The guardian will take you down first.” Slader crossed his arms, showing off his massive biceps. He didn’t mince words.

“How do you know all this?” Honora asked, realizing how lucky she was that her flyer club friend was so well versed in the magical fighting arts.

“I’m a fan. Plus, I’m on the waiting list to become a guardian.” His bearded face was expressionless, except for a little twinkle in his eye.

“What? Why am I just hearing about this now?” Honora wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or awed. Maybe a little of both. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It has nothing to do with trust. I never saw the reason to tell anyone. If I were ever called up, I would have to disappear, and no one would ever see me again.”

Slader was the toughest wizard she’d ever known. It didn’t surprise her that he volunteered to be a guardian and devote his life to protecting Everland. He was both a gentleman and a fierce fighter, but the idea of him leaving without saying a word stung. “You wouldn’t even say goodbye?” She averted her gaze, a pout forming on her face.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s a long shot. I’ve been on the list for over fifty years.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not. I’ll hunt you down and kick your butt if you do.” She gave him a good-natured shove.

He snorted. “Good luck with that. Now let’s focus on the job.”

“I really need your advice. Looks like I’m going to have a hard time even talking with the Woodsman. How close do you think I can get?” she asked, changing the subject.

“My suggestion is to try and reason with the guardian. He’s the one who can help you get the message to the Woodsman that you’re looking for Rainer. That’s your best chance.” He picked up the staff and threw it to her. “Let’s start with defensive counterblows.”

“I’ll do the attacking,” Honora said before taking a direct hit from Slader’s wand, flinging her across the room into a pile of crash mats. Her new substitute wand went flying. “Damn! I can never hold on to those things.” She pounded her fist on the mat.

Honora’s biggest strength was flying, and though she had a short staff she used in close-contact fighting, she was not as adept at using a wand, especially in flight. She had dropped more than a half-dozen wands in her academy days before realizing she needed a new way of conducting magic.

Slader bounded toward her in a crouched stance, his staff raised. “Too late. You’re dead.”

“Give me a second.” She raised her head off the mat and rubbed her back. “Ouch. That’s the second cheap shot I’ve taken today.”

“No one fights fair in the real world. Sometimes that one shot is all you’re going to get.” He threw another blast at her, but Honora rolled out of the strike path just in time.

Slader backed off, taking a defensive stance. Once on her feet, she crept out of hiding behind a support beam and slinked to the center of the room. She crouched low. Her muscles tensed. Her senses heightened. She was ready for whatever her flying buddy was about to throw at her. Honora couldn’t help but smile at her burly friend.

Slader’s eyes glowed black and gold—the night vision. Her stomach lurched. Suddenly all the lights went out, and they were shrouded in darkness.

“Illuminus!” Honora screamed, and the tip of her wand glowed, but it was too late. Slader’s shadowy form barreled toward her. He took three steps and used his staff to vault over her head. Within seconds he was behind her. She hadn’t seen it coming, but that was what made Slader one of the best sparring partners.

Instinctively, she dropped to the mat and spun around. Slader’s spell shot toward her in a jagged bolt of pulsating energy. She didn’t have time to move; the spell hit her in the chest with a warm crackle of energy that shot through her limbs, making her fingers tingle. She screamed, “Hazel’s heart!”

A thin, translucent shield sprung to life in front of her, taking a direct hit with a deafening crack as another attack spell crashed into the ward. Honora winced, but the shield held, not a scratch on it. She felt a distinct hum of magic directly under her belly button, where her belt buckle rested. The shield was seven feet tall and wide, giving her a protective berth.

Slader cursed, whispered a spell, and the lights came back on. “What the
Hazel
is that?” he huffed. His eyes were wild with both curiosity and anger. He hated being bested in a fight.

Honora backed up a few feet as he advanced. “Just a little something I came up with to take a quick hit. Like it?”

He studied the shield and then his shoulders relaxed. “Like it? I love it. You never cease to amaze me. That’s a brilliant idea.”

“Thanks,” Honora said, and deactivated the spell. “You never know when you might need an instant shield.”

“Where you’re going, you’ll get some good use out of it.”

Honora was a fan of charms and potions, but they were totally impractical to use while flying and fighting at the same time. She had needed to come up with something better and less likely to be misplaced, lost, or dropped. It had to be a magical spell she could wear like a charm, but more practical than having a dangly bracelet or necklace with detachable charms loaded with spells. The shield belt had been the perfect invention.

It was unexpected and strong. She could wear the belt and not worry about it falling off, and the magic could be easily loaded up into the buckle. She chose a defensive shield she could pull up with a short phrase.

They worked on more defensive techniques, until Honora felt she had a good arsenal of combat magic at her disposal. Then Slader taught her survivalist training techniques—fire-starting spells, camping skills, and what plants and proteins were edible. She made a mental note to take extra granola bars, because there was no way she was eating worms.

“You’ll need a face mask and some good headgear, like a hood. I brought a couple for you to try on. And goggles are a no-brainer.”

“Check. I have a pack and some light gear. I’ve never flown in such cold weather.” She shuddered.

“You’re going to need to keep warm and carry light. You’ll need an insulated jumpsuit and jacket. You’ll be on your feet, so no cute boots. You need sturdy and fur-lined, maybe even steel-toe like these.” He handed her a pair of boots. “I got these for you.”

“They’re awesome. You’re being extra nice to me. What’s up with that?” She loved that he doted on her like a protective father.

“Just watch your back. You still don’t know what’s going on with this guy or what’s happened to him.”

“He might not even be there,” Honora said, hugging the boots to her chest.

“What’s your gut tell you?” Slader rubbed his bearded chin.

“I think he’s on the run from something or someone. My guess is the council. Maybe he’s hiding from a bad deal or a job gone wrong. Who knows? But if I needed to hide and I worked on the wall, I’d go there.”

“Sounds solid.”

“Thanks for your help.”

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Don’t thank me. I don’t like you going up there, but I get the mission. Let’s get you packed up and ready.”

After stopping by the office to see Sawyer, who’d gathered up some maps of the North, and heading back to her apartment to pack up all her gear, Honora was ready. Barnaby took to the sky with her. With her familiar by her side, she wouldn’t be entirely on her own. Her plan was to take the Silver Train to the last northern stop and find the Woodsman, the guardian of the North Woods.

Next stop, Rawlands.

9

T
he train ride north was a grueling overnight journey. When Honora was a little girl, her mother had told her and her sisters bedtime stories about the fabled North Woods. Elspeth called them the wild woods. The sound of her voice had been a deep whisper, tiptoeing across the tales of prowling wolves, magical bears, and giant fir trees that pierced the ceiling of the sky. Bearded wizards carried enchanted axes slung over their shoulders. The woods were alive with wild earth magic, and Honora had been enthralled by the prospect of adventure laced with danger.

Honora pulled up her quilted hood, rested her head against the cool window glass, and tried to catch a nap while the night train sliced through the darkness. Tiredly, Honora changed trains around three in the morning. When she stepped from one train to the next, the air was biting cold and the sky was clear, filled with stars bright and sharp as cut glass. A few rough-faced wizards wearing thick, curly sheep wool coats and heavy leather boots were the only other passengers. She dozed off for a few hours but was too restless to sleep soundly, wondering what awaited her in the magical forest of the North.

The town of Rawlands was the final stop on the Silver Train. It was the only settlement in the North Woods and was a hub for the witches and wizards who dared to live on the northern edge of the witching world. The surrounding forest was choked with tall pines packed together over the rough, rocky terrain. Rawlands looked like a giant clawed creature had taken a swipe out of the lush forest with a sharp paw, clearing a strip of land, where a town had sprung up. Honora made her way from the station and down the main street lined with log buildings—a tavern, boarding house, grocery and supply store, a sheriff’s station, and post office.

Even though it was still early, Honora headed for the local tavern. In her opinion, drinking establishments were a relaxed setting where gossip and news flourished and were the perfect places to gather information. From the manual, Honora had learned that the wardens of the four corners stayed in concealed stations, so she needed to sniff out the mysterious North Woods Station.

The streets were mostly empty, save for a half-dozen wizards with scruffy beards, giving her narrowed glances, crotchety grunts, and a few shoves as she walked down the boarded walkway. Not surprisingly, chivalry was a corpse in Rawlands. The townsfolk were as frozen as the ground. Honora passed through the swinging door to the bar. The waitress, using a cleaning spell on some tables, was the first witch Honora had seen since her arrival. She nodded to the young witch, parked herself on a barstool, and dropped her pack on the seat next to her.

An older witch with jet-black hair shot through with gray walked in from the back room. Her arms were loaded with bottles shimmering with green-colored alcohol. “We aren’t open yet, missy.” She set the bottles on the bar and raised an eyebrow at Honora. “Come back this afternoon.”

“I just arrived on the night train. My internal clock’s a little off. Might as well be noon to me.” Honora motioned to the shimmering liquor. “Looks interesting.”

“Make it myself. Winter pine whiskey. Has a wicked bite to it.” She waved her wand and levitated the bottles up to the shelves lining the wall behind the bar.

“How about you crack one open?” Honora laid her gold card on the wooden surface. “And I’d love some breakfast if you can manage it.”

The witch snorted and nodded to the young girl, who hurried into the back. Within a few seconds, Honora heard the bang of pots and pans and the sizzle of frying food coming from what must be the kitchen. “The girl has a ton of home-cooking spells right at the tip of her wand, or I would never have let her stay up here,” the bartender said as she poured Honora a shot. “This is no place for an impressionable young witch.” Her expression was somewhere between a wince and a smile, causing crow’s feet to bunch at the corners of her bright blue eyes.

“You seem to be doing fine.” Honora motioned to the bar. “Nice place you have.”

“Name’s Rosalyn.” The witch’s voice was rough and gravelly.

“Honora.” She gulped down the shot. The alcohol burned a trail down to her stomach. “Whoa.” She coughed. “Smooth.”

“Pays the bills,” Rosalyn said. She whispered a spell, and a rag sprang to life, polishing the surface of the bar. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing here? Your type is rare in these parts.”

“Came looking for a friend.”

“Word of advice: Friends are rare in these parts. Doubt you’re going to find one. Most keep to themselves, I’m afraid, and don’t like strangers, no matter how pretty.”

Honora had expected a frosty reception, so the witch’s words did little to influence her either way. “I’ve got no choice. Plus, I’m already here.” She rolled the bottom of the shot glass around on the bar.

The young witch hurried from the kitchen and set a plate heaped with scrambled eggs and potatoes in front of Honora. The aroma was heavenly. Honora’s stomach growled in agreement, causing the girl to giggle.

“I’m looking for the station,” Honora said, shoveling the buttery delicious food into her mouth. Rosalyn was right. The witch could cook.

The rag froze mid-swipe on the bar. Rosalyn went motionless and gave Honora a glacial stare. “You came to the wrong place. If you’re talking about the station I think you’re talking about, it’s not on any map. You aren’t going to find it. Many eager witches have tried and failed miserably.” Her brow creased, her eyes glazed over as if a terrible memory flashed behind them.

“I’m not so sure about that. I’m not the failing type, and I’ve got a map that says otherwise.” Honora patted her pack.

“You’re traveling the wrong road. You have no idea what you’re up against. And I’m just talking about the weather and the wildlife.” The bar’s owner shook her head. The witch’s demeanor had turned hard, angry, with an undercurrent of sadness. Honora wondered what she’d seen in her life up here in the wild woods to cause the reaction. When Rosalyn looked up at her now, her eyelids had gone heavy and the skin around her jaw went slack. She looked older than when Honora had walked in a few minutes before. Something suddenly weighed on her, as if Honora had just given her terrible news, or perhaps reminded her of an unpleasant event. “Don’t go where you’re headed. Spend the day in town, get yourself a room over at the boarding house, have a nice rest, and then take the next train back to wherever it is you came from.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not leaving until I find my friend,” Honora said in a serious tone. “The next train doesn’t leave for two days, so I’ve got some time to finish my business.” She speared a clump of potatoes with her fork. “Got any recommendations on where I can get the lay of the land?”

Rosalyn sucked in her cheeks. “Try the sheriff. He might throw you a bone.”

“I didn’t come here for bones, and I definitely didn’t come here to mingle with local law enforcement.” Honora scraped a bite of cheesy egg from her plate. The last thing she needed was for the local sheriff to sound the alarm with the council or Hex Division that she was out here snooping around.

“You aren’t the type of academy witch who normally comes here digging up some secret information about the wall and the wild north.” Rosalyn gave an amused snort. “What are you really doing up here? Why’s finding the station so important to you?” The witch had turned the questions back on Honora.

“Like I said, I’m hoping to reunite with an old friend. Heard he might be in these parts,” Honora stonewalled and gave the witch a good-natured shrug.

“Maybe I could give you a hand. I know just about everyone up here. Save you some trouble. Like I said, the woods aren’t for the faint of heart. You don’t look like the survivalist type, at least not in cold country.”

“I doubt you know the guy.” Honora had to be careful whom she trusted, and right now that was no one. Not even a congenial bartender.

“If that’s how you want to play it, go ahead. But you’re not going to get much help out there. We’re a suspicious bunch, especially when it comes to strangers.”

Glancing around the room, a glint of steel caught Honora’s attention. An awe-inspiring collection of axes hung on one wall of the bar. There had to be about two dozen different kinds with sharp, thick edges and carved handles.

“Nice blades. Do a lot of woodcutting up here?” Honora nodded to the wall while admiring the weapons.

“They’re a lifesaver. The enchanted ax is our symbol, a talisman really. You won’t find a wizard living in the wilderness who doesn’t wield one. The trees are thicker, the wildlife is wilder, and life in the North Woods is a dangerous one. But the magic is a real rush.” The bartender smiled.

“Magic axes. Nice. How far are we from the wall?” Honora asked, not expecting to get much, but giving it a try. “Are we close? Because from the moment I arrived, I felt the magical hum of something powerful, permeating the whole area, like magic is in the air. I can almost taste it.”

“The wall’s exact location is a legend we don’t confirm or deny.” The local witch gave Honora a curious stare. “Look, I know a wizard who might be able to help you. For a price.” Rosalyn nodded to Honora’s gold card. “He works as a guide. Takes prospectors out to see the logging areas. He could help you find your way around, and trust me, if you’re going out there, you’ll need help.”

“Thanks, but I work best alone.” Honora paid for the food. She liked Rosalyn. She seemed like a solid, honest witch who told it like it was. “I’m getting a room to park my gear and get some rest before I head out, so I’ll see you on my way back.”

Rosalyn cleared the plate and silverware with a levitation spell. “If you make it back.”

A shiver trailed up Honora’s spine at the witch’s warning. After the interesting encounter at the bar, she made her way to the boarding house. Her room was on the third floor, facing away from the street, giving her a view of the surrounding woods. She tossed her gear on the bed and unpacked some of her stuff. She was eager to get going, but after the long train ride and then breakfast, she needed to loosen up her muscles before a long day of flying.

She took a quick, hot shower and changed out of her traveling clothes and into insulated layers. Besides her maps, she didn’t have much to go on. Her time at the bar had been a bust. The bartender, though a nice character, had offered up no real insight, except that she was going to be in over her head.

There was a rustling noise coming from outside her room. Honora flattened her back against the wall, away from the door. “Anyone out there?” she called.

A loud knock pounded on the surface. “Rosalyn sent me.”

Honora rolled her eyes and opened the door. A tall male figure stood in the doorway. He wore a flannel shirt and suede coat and was brutishly handsome. He was about six feet tall with curly brown hair and a neat brown beard. Honora’s gaze drifted over his leather belt, where a large knife and small ax hung on opposite sides of his waist. “Rosalyn said you were in the market for a guide.”

Her muscles relaxed. “Word travels fast around here.”

“When there’s work, I come running.” He held out his rough hands as an offer.

“Thanks, but you came for nothing. I’m not hiring a guide.”

“Rosalyn told me you’d say that.” The iris of his eyes shimmered like cut glass.

“Really? What else did she tell you?” Honora cocked her hip to the side.

“Not much, besides that you were stubborn, driven, and had a gold card.”

“All true,” she said and turned back to her pack. “But I’m still not hiring.”

He rubbed his chin, studying her. “I can tell by looking at you that you’re an experienced tracker, been traversing the wilderness for decades, encountered deadly mountain cats and fought them off with ease, endured the ice frosts that roll across the midnight landscape like a shroud. You probably don’t need my help at all.” He flashed her a wolfish grin. “May I come in?”

His charm and good-natured teasing were infectious. “Sure.” Honora smiled.

“Name’s Ren. I’m the best you’re going to find in these parts. I hear you’re looking for the station and the wall.” He raised his brow and took a tentative step into the room.

“You seem like a nice guy, and I’m touched by Rosalyn’s concern, but I can do this on my own.” Honora tried not to stare at the handsome wizard. She hadn’t dated anyone since an unfortunate hookup with her ex-boyfriend Dax Cross a few months earlier, and this mountain woodsman was totally her type, and nothing like her ex. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need a guide. I’m fine on my own.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Rosalyn was worried about you, since this is your first time up north, and I can’t blame her. We’ve lost a lot of good witches and wizards who thought they could go it alone, and any time I can lend a hand, I will.”

“I didn’t know that,” Honora said.

“We don’t advertise it in the travel brochures,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “Lots of adventure seekers think they’re prepared, but don’t have a clue. I can teach you a good warming and cocooning spell so you don’t freeze to death at night when you don’t make it back to town.” He drove his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“I’m not overnighting it out in the woods. I’m just going for the day.”

“That’s what everyone says, and then they get stuck out there sleeping under the stars and the cold rolls over them like a frozen mist. The conditions are harsher than you think. There’s no one in the woods to help. Once dusk hits, you need to hunker down for the night. Even with a guide, it will be rough.” Real concern welled in his eyes.

She gave him an amused smirk. “I’ve been trained. I can handle myself.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. But you’ve not seen these parts—the weather changes on a dime, the wildlife is fierce, and the magic is wild. Experience is the only real training, and you have none.”