Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (9 page)

I
moved onward
as quickly and quietly as I could, trying to remember my maps and the location of the nearest town. Branches whipped at my face as I moved through the dense forest, leaving shallow scratches on my cheeks and forcing me to close my eyes as I pushed through thickets. I cursed the trees, and the roots that tripped me where they arched up from the ground, sending me stumbling if I tried to move too quickly. Still, there was no time to waste. When I didn’t appear in Luid, Severn would send parties out to search for me.

Artisland wasn’t a densely populated province, but near the Durlin border the towns were closer together. I would find something if I kept walking. When I came to a river, I followed it downstream. If I recalled my maps correctly, it would lead me back to the road and a nearby village.

Exhaustion caught up with me toward morning and weighed down my limbs, my eyelids, and my mind. Emalda’s potions would have helped at that point, but they were gone. I hoped the man who took them would drink every drop and find himself never able to sleep again. He deserved the insanity.

When I reached the road I continued along beside it, staying close to the shelter of the forest. The creak of carriage wheels reached me, and I crouched in the thin brush to watch a party of merchants go by. They were talking, but too far off for me to hear their words or get a clear sense of their thoughts. They watched the woods carefully, but whether they were watching for me or for bandits, I couldn’t guess.

Best to be cautious, though
. I let them go on, and followed them until I reached the outskirts of a village.

I pulled my cloak on and raised the hood to cover my face, though the streets were nearly empty as the thin sunrise stained the eastern sky pink. There were no signs stating the name of the town, only a posting at the crossroads that indicated the way to other and presumably better places. The gravel roads were well kept, the log-and-plank buildings plain but tidy. The houses had little ornamentation save for their front doors, which people had painted with scenes of daily life and legends, all in bright colors. Some were little better than the scribblings of children, but one spectacular piece caught my eye.

The double doors of a temple of some sort stood out against the whitewashed building and depicted a group of men in brown robes raising their hands before a white dragon—not attacking or defending, but holding up offerings of food and white gems. It brought to mind a story I’d heard as a child, the legendary tale of the Dragonfreed Brothers. I was never clear on their origins, but had heard they were a religious order of unassuming men who lived austere lives, devoting their days to prayer and meditation. They’d offered care and counseling to the people who made the long journey to visit them, often fugitives and outcasts, or those in need of healing.

Perhaps that much was true, and this building belonged to some tiny remnant of that movement. But the Dragonfreed Brothers of legend were also warriors, skilled in non-magical combat both on the battlefield and in the streets, able to approach and kill a man before he knew he wasn’t alone. They were assassins, and far more subtle ones than I had ever been, skilled with weapons and famous for not needing them. They proclaimed themselves independent from any kingdom that rose or fell around them, offering no loyalty or service to kings or lords. They worked for themselves, and in the service of the Goddess. Beyond that, their motivations were a mystery.

There was no indication of that part of the story in this painting. Still, the artist had captured a certain grim dignity in the men’s faces in just a few simple brush-strokes. I’d have been interested to look for longer, but time was passing.

A general store sat with its product-cluttered porch bumped directly against the street, without the garden spaces out front that had defined properties in the residential area. I climbed the steps and passed a life-sized woodcarving of a wolf on my way to the door. Someone inside was already awake and bustling about. Mumbled words drifted out of a cracked-open window.

No chance of breaking in and taking things quietly, then. She was alone, though, as far as I could tell. The thought that the Sorcerer who had blocked me might be there crossed my mind, and I opened the heavy door cautiously.

I saw no sign of anyone but a plump, middle-aged woman, and as soon as I caught her attention her mind was open enough that I’d have known if she were hiding anyone else there. She had a hint of magic herself, so slight that she was likely not aware of it. Not enough to protect her from me, surely.

Still, I would use caution. I stepped in and closed the door tight behind me, and slipped the deadbolt lock silently into place.

The shopkeeper gave me a wary smile. “G’morning, sir,” she said, and smoothed her apron down over the skirts of her blue, floral-print dress. “You’re out and about early this morning.” Her nervousness filled the air. I’d long since learned not to let other people’s emotions affect me when I sensed them, but it still made for an unpleasant experience. I wanted to shake her, to yell at her to control herself. I might have taken control of her mind then, but still my grandfather’s admonitions and Rowan’s fear held me back.

And there was her magic to consider. Small though it was, I wasn’t about to take unnecessary risks sooner than I had to. Not when I was exhausted, and so out of practice. For now, I would just watch.

I smiled to put her at ease. “I’m just passing through town. How fortunate for me that you’re an early riser, too.” Her shoulders relaxed at the warmth in my voice and expression. “I only need a few things.”

I listed off a few items as I saw them on the shelves, nothing that might take her to a back room and break the tenuous connection between us. Clothing, food, a new pack, a blanket, and a full bag of fresh water covered the counter, and in moments when her attention was on her work, I found my way deeper into her mind, careful not to alert her to my intrusion. Her magic was weak, indeed, though I felt it as it pushed back against me. I retreated slightly, and it quieted. I moved in again, and it remained still.

Her thoughts drifted frequently to the news that had arrived late last night, news of a fugitive that had kept her awake and led to her opening early this morning since she wasn’t getting any sleep, anyway. Each time her thoughts tended in that direction, I nudged them gently away, toward the task at hand.

She marveled inwardly at her uncharacteristic calm and focus.

My intervention kept her from making the dangerous connection between me and the fugitive, and I was careful not to probe too deeply into private thoughts, even when her attention strayed to my appearance, and then toward her slob of a husband who had been gone on a hunting trip for the past two weeks. Her thoughts moved toward suspicion again when she remembered something about a fugitive of some sort, and she decided she was glad her young daughter was safe, sleeping at her grandparents’ house that night. They’d protect the girl from danger.

I turned her thoughts away again.
Definitely best to not let this one out of my sight.

“Anything else?” she asked, and looked over the items before her, tallying up the purchase in her mind, hiding her glee at the thought of the gold she expected. I wondered whether Rowan would still be as horrified at the thought of stealing for survival as she had been when we stole horses. Funny how that had become a pleasant memory.

But I couldn’t be distracted by it. Not now, when I was so close to making my escape.

She scratched out figures on a sheet of paper and gave me a total. I slipped deeper into her mind and gave her the image of me handing her the money with a smile. I wasn’t sure where she would put the money, so I didn’t address that. The memory would be imperfect, and confusing for her when she couldn’t remember what she’d done with the gold, but it would have to do.

“Thank you,” she said, but her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. A thought rushed forward, a warning about me. I shoved it away, and she blinked hard. Her magic pushed back, harder and stronger than before, attempting to push me out.

Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m not feeling well. Will you need help with those things?”

“No, thank you.” I stuffed everything into the bag, maintaining my hold over her the whole time. She was going to make the connection as soon as I released her. Aren Tiernal, former prince and current wanted criminal, in her store and taking her things. The town would be after me. I would have to go in again, twist her mind until she believed I had never been there. I reached deeper.

The door to what I took to be the back rooms or living quarters creaked open and a red-headed girl of perhaps seven years stepped into the shop. She wore a green dress and a curious expression. “Mama?”

Gods damn it.

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a loud gasp as even I couldn’t keep her from understanding the danger. Her mind fought back, and her magic surged forward hard enough to take advantage of my momentary distraction. It tried to force me out, pulling and pushing until it caused a flash of agony in my brain.

I forgot where I was and what I was doing. Everything was confusing, and I lost myself. I pushed back with as much force as I could, not sure what exactly I was trying to accomplish, knowing only that I felt trapped, panicked. My magic expanded, and hers went out like a light.

The woman shrieked, and her mind went blank. She dropped to the floor behind the counter, sobbing. I recovered myself and looked around. Nothing had changed, save for the fact that when I reached out tentatively to take in the woman’s thoughts, there was nothing there.

The child turned her huge brown eyes on me, and her chin quivered.

“Shh,” I whispered. “She’ll be fine.” I couldn’t know that. In fact, it seemed likely that the woman’s mind and magic were lost forever. Most folk did not recover easily from magical attacks. But the lie came easily enough. I slung the pack over my shoulders and backed toward the door.

The child continued to watch me as she stepped closer to her mother. I considered changing her memories, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Whether it was the influence of the people I’d been spending time with or some bone-deep shred of humanity I had never had reason to discover before, I had found the limit of what I was willing to do, and to whom. And I couldn’t risk another disaster.

“Go away, bad man,” the girl said, speaking in a calm and matter-of-fact tone.

I obeyed her command. A skinny gray horse was tied up in front of the shop, saddled and warm from carrying the girl home. He shied when I came close, perhaps sensing something of the storm of thoughts and emotions I couldn’t keep from raging through me. Despair battled with fear for the top spot as I managed to mount the horse and calm him. Not fear for my life or fear of being caught, but fear of myself.

What have I done? Who am I?

For once, I couldn’t shut the feelings out. All I could do was ride.

M
y next lesson
with Griselda took us back to the beach where Aren had told me he was leaving. It looked different on a clear day, all sparkling water and the derelict elegance of the decaying buildings on the cliffs. Bernard joined us. While he couldn’t offer advice from experience, he’d spent his life among the school’s students, and I wasn’t about to turn down his offer to observe and assist.

Florizel flew overhead. She remained convinced that I would love flying, and had suggested that I only needed to escape the cares of the grounded world for a while. Her shadow passed over us, broad wings and a strong body, circling lower, and I shuddered. She meant well.

“Again,” Griselda called. “Remember, Sorchere. Do not focus on the tool. Think only of the outcome. Ignore the magic.”

I turned to the water and concentrated on calling it to me, attempting to clear my mind even as I focused on my task. The aim was to separate a small portion of the sea, not more than a handful, and make it flow over the stones toward me. Not so different from the snowball experiment, but there was nothing to catch on fire here save for driftwood.

Don’t think about it. Just do it.

Seconds passed, and minutes. Nothing. I felt the magic in me, swirling and growing, eager to make something happen, but every time it tried to leave me, I held back.

I’d escaped a life of confinement in Darmid and found the adventure I’d always dreamed of, only to find myself stuck again. Useless. Bound.

Griselda shrieked, and my eyes snapped open. She stood nearby, drenched. Behind me, Bernard burst into laughter.

I turned to him. “Stop!” Then, to Griselda, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, but shot an irritated glance over her soaked clothing. Bernard looked away as she slipped her shirt off and wrung it out. “At least it was something,” she said.

“I didn’t even get my target right.” My own clothes were perfectly dry.

“No, but the water came, didn’t it? That’s more success than you’ve had with other things. This is worth exploring.” She shivered. “Bernard, be a dear and pass me a towel.”

Bernard complied, then stood with his hands in his pockets. “Maybe we should start dropping things on my head, see what happens.”

“Don’t even joke,” I said.

“No, really.” He bent and picked up a pink shell and tossed it into the air. It bounced off of his head, and he winced. “You’re supposed to save me.”

“Save yourself.”

Griselda clicked her tongue and tilted her head to one side, watching us. “It’s not dangerous enough. Every time you’ve used your magic effectively, someone you care about has been in danger.”

“Aww, shucks,” Bernard said, and I rolled my eyes.

“I didn’t particularly care about Aren either time I healed him,” I reminded her.

“Perhaps your magic responded to his the first time, eh? In any case, it was an emergency. You felt compelled to act, to take control. Bernard isn’t wrong. It could be that these theoretical exercises are too safe to push you into action. Your people did harm to your mind, didn’t they?”

“I suppose so.” In fact, I knew so. Though I’d dreamed of magic since childhood, shame still burned deep within me when I considered what I had become and what I was doing. Leaving old ideas behind had proved harder than I thought, even if I’d always doubted them.

Griselda placed her hands on my shoulders and looked squarely into my eyes. “I’m going to suggest something strange, even frightening. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

I took a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

“The binding.”

My chest constricted, and a chill that had nothing to do with the ocean air crept over my skin. “Yes?”

“It controlled your magic.”

“Far too much. It almost killed me.” I stepped back, and she released me from her gentle grip. “I’m not going back to that.”

“I know. And I would never suggest such a thing.” She watched as I sat on the stony beach. “What they did to you was wrong. I only mention it because there may be lesser forms of a similar process. Temporary solutions that can place limits on your magic. Emalda may know something about it. I don’t think anyone has the formula anymore, but I’ve heard there are substances that can—”

“No. Please. I can’t risk that pain again. There has to be another way.” I hated the way my voice trembled. I thought Griselda would be disgusted. Surely she never showed weakness. But when I looked up, her brow was creased with compassion.

“I’m sorry, Sorchere. It was merely an idea.” She wrung out her thick hair, releasing a narrow stream of water onto the pebbled beach. “Well, let’s try again, and then I think I need to get out of this cold air. I don’t miss much about Luid, but the weather there is vastly preferable.”

She passed the towel back to Bernard, ignoring his suggestion that he swim out to see if a sea serpent would attack him and provoke my protective instincts.

“Rowan!” called a voice from above us. Emalda hurried along the edge of the cliff, holding her gray skirts out of the way with one hand, waving an envelope in the other. She climbed down to the beach, arriving breathless, and handed the letter to me. “This just came, marked urgent.”

My heart leapt into my throat and lodged there. Was Aren in trouble? Had he found his father already?

I reached for the paper with trembling hands and was surprised to see that it had been marked by the Belleisle postal service as having arrived from Darmid via Tyrea. I didn’t realize until that moment that I had given up on hearing from my family.

I tore into the envelope and pulled out two pieces of thick paper, one cream and one pure white.

The note on cream was from my mother. Tears blurred my vision at the sight of her precise, elegant handwriting, and further at her words.

M
y darling Rowan
,

I hope and pray that this note finds you well. We were all so relieved to receive your letters, though I will confess that I never stop worrying about your safety.

There are so many things I wish to tell you, but Callum is here waiting to take the letter. He’s offered to have this delivered along with one he’s sending to you, which seems a kind gesture, but does put some pressure on me! To answer your questions, your father and I are in good health. Things have been difficult, but it’s nothing you should concern yourself over. Your sisters are well. Willow and her husband have moved to a town a day’s journey from here. It has been difficult, and I miss the children, but it’s for the best. Laurel and her family are considering doing the same.

As for your brother, he misses you terribly. Ashe’s health has been poor these past months, since not long after you left. He was injured while out searching for you, and has contracted some form of blood poisoning that our doctor has thus far been unable to cure. Fever, chills, frequent confusion, and this wound on his hand that won’t heal...He wouldn’t want me to trouble you about it, but it seems wrong to keep it from you. You were always closer to Ashe than to any of the rest of us.

I haven’t spoken to your uncle recently, but as far as I know your aunt Victoria’s situation is unchanged. I don’t know whether they told the poor woman you’d gone missing. She’s lost so much already. Ches has been staying closer to home; whether this is by choice or not I couldn’t say. Things may be difficult for him in Ardare now.

Callum tells me he must be off, so I’ll bring this letter to a close. Please keep your brother in your prayers, and know that you are in mine. I hope we’ll meet soon, and that there will be time for me to explain everything.

U
ntil then I will remain
,

Y
our loving
Mother

I
wiped
at my eyes with my sleeve.
They haven’t disowned me.

Fear that had been wrapped tight around me for months loosened. But poor Ashe...and things had to be bad for Willow to have moved away. She and mother were more like sisters than mother and daughter, and I doubted they’d spent more than a few weeks apart in all of Willow’s twenty-four years. It was good to have news, but I needed more.

The paper had been torn in a neat line across the bottom. That was typical of my mother. Waste not, want not. I flipped the letter over, but she hadn’t written anything on the back.

The letter on white paper was, indeed, from Callum Langley, the magic hunter I’d promised to marry before I learned what I truly was. I’d never expected to hear from him again. I assumed he’d received the letter in which I told him about my magic, and the follow-up in which I told him I was safe and pursuing the use of the power I’d been born with.

I unfolded the letter slowly, and read.

R
owan
,

Please forgive me for not replying sooner to your messages. I searched for you after you disappeared, sent men into the mountains to search, took every professional tracker my father could spare. Your letters brought relief, though no small measure of surprise, as you can imagine.

I have stayed in contact with your family this winter. They are eager to see you, and I myself would like to sit with you, to see that you are, in fact, as well as you say. Though we no longer have a future together, I think that we can still be friends, as we once were. If nothing else, I wish to hear more of your experiences in these past months. Though I would never say as much to my father, I have long held suspicions that we’re not told the full truth about magic. As I am a low-level hunter, he doesn’t share his secrets with me. If, as you say, this is something you and others are born with, that the lost children are...well, that’s too unpleasant to speak of here, but I wish to know the truth.

However, I can’t risk further correspondence. My father read your other letters. It would be best if you didn’t respond to this one.

Your disappearance was difficult for your family, as was the aftermath. Your mother will have told you about your brother’s terrible illness, and I know it would help them to see you. I would be pleased to meet you at the border and assure your safe passage through Darmid to visit with them. Again, discretion would be of utmost importance, but I feel that this is something I owe to you, and to myself.

If there’s any way you can make it, I will be at the Boar’s Head Tavern in Archer’s Point next month. My father is allowing me a bit of time away from my duties, and I’ve chosen to vacation in the mountains alone. It would be an ideal place for a quiet meeting, and from there I can take you to meet your family in whatever location they choose. I’m afraid it won’t be a long visit, as we must all value our safety, but surely it’s better than nothing. If you’re able and willing, please meet me at mid-day on the twenty-second.

C
. Langley

I
folded Callum’s letter
, slipped it back into the envelope, and handed my mother’s to Emalda. The crease between her eyebrows deepened as she read.

“Foolish Darmish folk,” she muttered, without apology. “They destroy the magical plants in their country and then complain when they can’t find the cures they need.” She shook her head. “There’s no need for such suffering.”

“So you know what it is?”

“I’d say barb-vine slipped through their defenses there in the mountains, and he took a scratch while they were thundering through the brush. Simple enough to treat. I can give you a list of herbs, but even if you send the recipe no one in your country will know how to brew the potion and administer it properly. I doubt they’d be able to find the ingredients.”

“So I guess I have to politely ask you to brew it for me and deliver it myself.”

Emalda handed the letter back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I hardly think so. I know you want to see your family and are concerned for your brother, but this is a bad idea.”

“Will Ashe die if he doesn’t get treatment?”

She held my gaze. “Perhaps.”

“Emalda?”

“Probably,” she admitted. “But you’re not ready, and I’m not willing to sacrifice one of my students for this. We might consider it in a few months, if your training goes well enough that you can defend yourself should something go wrong. As of right now you’d be killed out there if you went alone, and we can’t spare anyone to escort you across Tyrea.”

I turned to Griselda. “What do you think?”

She looked from me to Emalda and gave an apologetic shrug. “I don’t know. We should speak to the headmaster about it. Rowan may need to get out on her own and try her magic in the real world, you know? Take some chances. Force herself to learn. But then, we are making progress here. Stopping may be a bad idea. I can’t say.”

“She’ll be killed,” Bernard said. “This is a worse idea than the sea serpent.” His mother raised her eyebrows, but didn’t ask. “Griselda’s right. She’s starting to make progress. She can’t just leave.”

“Bernard,” I said, “I’ll come back. It’s just a little break.” I remembered the book’s words on acceptance, and my attempts to allow my magic to become a part of me. “Maybe I just need to need it more.”

Bernard squared his shoulders. “I could go with you, if you need me.”

“No,” I said. “Thank you, but they need you here.”

Florizel landed, sending beach rocks clattering over each other in her wake. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” I said. “We’re talking about me leaving the island. Going back past the mountains, to Darmid.” My stomach froze as I spoke. There was only one way to go if I didn’t want the journey to take weeks. “You said you’d been feeling restless...”

Her ears pricked forward. “Are you going to help Aren?”

“Not yet.”

She flexed her wings, and a wave of nausea swept over me.
For Ashe
, I reminded myself. Maybe for Darmid, if I could get Callum to understand the truth about magic.

“This is crazy,” Emalda said. “We’ll talk about it with Ernie later. He won’t allow it. He won’t. Perhaps if Aren were still here, he could…Damn it.” She picked her skirts up again, and hiked back up the cliff without another word.