Breach of Darkness

    Aden swept autumn leaves off the path. He had a big broom that was better suited for the job, but it was back in the shed and he didn't really care. He found it hard to care much about any of his work anymore.
    Three months he'd been at Stonewall Academy, but not as a student. The others his age called him the broom boy. He cleaned the walls and the patios. He scrubbed the dishes and hung sheets out to dry.
    The only thing he had to look forward to every day was watching the academy girls walk back from their classes, especially one. Her name was Abby and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. They'd had a history together, but not the kind he wanted. She pretended she didn't even know him anymore.
    “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a lame leg,” a voice said behind him. It was Ian, his room mate. “Let's move it along now, shall we?”
    Aden smiled. It had taken him a long time to realize it, but Ian was the best friend he had there. “Save me,” he muttered.
    “Honestly,” Ian said, grimacing at the falling leaves. “He's having you sweep this again? I wonder if he's just ran out of chores.”
    “How's class?”
    “Riveting,” Ian said, too excited. “It was utterly fascinating. Old Diorus really raised the bar today.” It was sarcasm, all of it. Nothing Ian ever said was sincere, unless it was something serious. “Actually, something did seem odd today. The old man had something else on his mind.”
    “You off to study?”
    “Of course. Do you mind bringing me my supper later? I have so much to do, I'll have no time to eat. Perhaps you can sit by my side and shove it down my throat as I read?”
    “You know, I never understand what you say anymore,” Aden said, turning away.
    Ian cracked a stifled smile, “You're coming with, then?”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Where do you want to go?”
    “I'm hungry,” Aden said.
    “You're always hungry,” He looked Aden up and down and grimaced. “And really, you're getting fat. You should stop eating.” He wasn't getting fat.
    Aden flexed his bicep and pursed his lips. “It's muscle. All of it. And you're jealous.”
    “Are you coming?”
    He sighed and twirled the broom around. “I have to finish this...”
    Ian took it from him and dropped it in the grass. “The leaves will still be here tomorrow and you can sweep them then. We're getting food now.”
    Aden let himself be pushed away. Diorus wouldn't mind. He might raise an eyebrow and threaten to send him to the streets, but he would ever actually do it, mostly because he'd grown to like him the last few months. But partly for because of other reasons, other reasons besides affection that Aden kept secret from everyone.

                                                                       *        *        *   

    “Aden,” Diorus called. It was morning and Aden was walking, sleepy-eyed, to the broom closet. He stepped back and peeked into Diorus' office.
    “Yes?”
    “I noticed the paths weren't swept yesterday,” Diorus said without looking up. He was the master of the academy and he made the appearance of a very busy man.
    “Oh yeah,” Aden said, thinking quickly of an excuse.
    “Come here.” Diorus ruffled through some pieces of parchment and still avoided eye contact. “I put you in Ian's room because he had the dorm to himself, but I wonder if he's been a bad influence on you.”
    “It's not him,” Aden said quickly.
    “Really?” Diorus said. “So you admit to having bad influence?” Finally, Diorus looked up at him with wrinkled eyes and smiled.
    Aden was a bit annoyed, but grinned obediently. Diorus meant well, and he really did seem to care about him, despite everything.
    “Your work has been... suffering lately.”
    “I get the job done,” Aden said, shuffling his feet.
    “But you're not applying yourself anymore.”
    Aden took a breath and looked Diorus in the eye. “With all due respect, sir, I'm not one of your students. I'm just here to clean.”
    Diorus chuckled. “It would seem you have yet to do that, even.” He looked past Aden's eyes, at something he'd seen before his time. “I just see so much of your father in you. You could have made a great skyborn.”
    The world thought he wasn't. Diorus thought he wasn't. Even Ian thought he wasn't. Skyborn of his day were all one kind, one type. The inherent ability to control various magic was so exclusively theirs. If Diorus hadn't seen it in Aden's mother, why would he see it in her son?
    “I'm sorry if I upset you,” Diorus said, blinking several times.
    Aden stepped closer to Diorus, just within an arm's width away. “Do you think... do you think I could still be one and not know it? I mean, what if I just wasn't like you? My father didn't control light essence. What if...”
    Diorus interrupted him. “Aden, there are no shades of grey in skyborn magic. You have it or you don't. If your father had trained to do so, he could have channeled the power of light essence, too.” He looked sympathetically in Aden's eyes. “We've been through this before.”
    “I know.”
    “It still bothers you.”
    “I'm grateful for my place here,” Aden said, “But I'm so different than the others. I feel sometimes like... I'm not worth as much.”
    Diorus turned back to his papers. “It all depends on how you measure worth.”
    Aden touched Diorus' shoulder. How could someone so wise be so blind? “Let me take the day off,” Aden said.
    Diorus glanced back up at him. The old man would feel nothing, but a great power had just surged through him, a power so secret. It was skyborn magic of a different kind.
    “Alright,” the bound man said. He smiled with wrinkled eyes. “But I expect you to start working harder tomorrow.”
    Aden let go of his shoulder and nodded politely. He left the office and shut the door quietly behind him.

                                                                       *        *        *

    Aden channeled the power of persuasion. There was not a person alive who knew this. His parents had died fifteen years earlier. His village had been burned to the ground that summer, along with anyone who knew his secret.
    The bell tolled in the courtyard and Aden grinned. The girls would be coming out of the dorms now. He jumped up on the ledge of a vine-covered wall and dangled his feet beneath. There they went- Sienna, Mia, Jenevive, three dark-haired beauties who didn't care if he existed. Next were the younger ones who'd be cute in a year or so. Then Abby stepped out of the doors, tying up her hair as she hurried to catch up to the other girls.
    He loved her morning hair. It messy and free. The sun cast it in a yellow glow that curled around her cheeks. She always took a deep breath when she stepped outside. She always blinked a bit too long when the sun hit her face.
    She saw him watching and he nodded to her. She seemed amused, but didn't say 'hello.' They never did. He wasn't worth anything to them. They were skyborn and they were on a different course in life. If only he'd had another chance to talk to her, another chance to touch her again.
    The power of persuasion could do amazing things. One touch and he could make her do anything he wanted. There were fantasies he would play in his mind every day.
    She was a beautiful girl, but it was something else about her that drove him crazy. He liked the way she laughed and smiled. He'd hear someone talking about her and find a reason to stop and listen. He'd think about her all the time, what their lives would be like together, conversations they'd have.
    Realistically, she was a girl who didn't want anything to do with him. He could change that. Just one touch, one word and she'd be his no matter what. No one would even have to know. He could tell her to keep it secret.
    But it wasn't right. Only in his darkest times did he actually think he'd go through with it. She deserved better than that. Abby's defilement was unsettling to him for some reason.
    And there was still something there. No matter how much she ignored him, she always glanced at him a bit longer than the other girls. When she walked past, she always shook her hair so it bounced and she walked so her body curved different ways. He couldn't shake the feeling that she'd be his someday, honestly and completely, and then he knew he'd have her forever.

                                                                       *        *        *

    Aden walked back to the dorms that afternoon. Ian was there, leaning on the dried fountain. A thin pipe was balancing between his lips with the entrails of smoke twirling around him. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Aden.
    “You look chipper,” he said.
    “Diorus gave me the day off.”
    “Again?”
    Aden sat next to him on the fountain. “Shouldn't you be studying or something?”
    Ian shrugged and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Shouldn't you be earning your keep?”
    Aden snatched the pipe out of Ian's mouth. He put it to his lips and inhaled, feeling the smoke burn his chest. “You're wearing your fancy hat,” Aden said. “What's the occasion?”
    “We're going out.”
    “What, did Daddy send you money again?”
    Ian's lips pursed into a smile and he nodded. “I need a new shirt.” He jumped off the fountain. “Come on.”
    They walked to the town square, out through the main gates of the academy and into the streets of Stonewall. To get to the square, they had to pass the outskirts of the market, a long maze of tented alleys with intriguing smells that wafted through the air.
    The square was large and simple. A statue stood at its center, surrounded by merchants and buyers of the upper class, all bundled in thick clothing to fight the autumn breeze. There were two-story shops of perfume, clothing, hats, china, and textiles on all sides. Ian knew exactly where he wanted to go.
    “Ian,” Aden asked. “What do you know about other types of skyborn magic?”
    “Why?” Ian asked quickly, too quickly.
    “Just wondering.”
    Ian held his step and looked at Aden. “That's an odd thing to wonder about.”
    “I just asked a question,” Aden said. “Come on, you take classes in this, right?”
    Ian shrugged. “The academy... doesn't really teach us much about other kinds.”
    “But you have to learn about them.”
    “Aden,” Ian said, “Most of what I've learned is by my own reading. Since the war, light essence has been the only form in Ashland.”
    “I know that,” Aden said.
    “Then why are you asking?” He was being too defensive. It wasn't like him.
    “Forget it.”
    They stepped into a clothing store. Ian nodded to man behind a wide desk.
    “Good evening,” the clerk said without looking up. “What are you looking for?” He was cutting a large piece of fabric.
    Aden stepped away and looked out the window, past a rack of frilly-looking white shirts. This wasn't his world. He followed Ian through it like a loyal puppy, not really ever sure what was going on but just curious enough to stick around.
    “What do you think of this?” Ian asked a few minutes later. He was wearing a fancy shirt, all white with silk embroidery.
    Aden lifted an eyebrow. “Looks alright.”
    “Next one, please,” Ian muttered to the clerk. He took off the shirt and was handed another one. He'd learned not to trust Aden's instincts. Aden had learned not to give Ian an honest opinion.
    The next shirt was frilly, but less obtrusive. “Better, I would think,” Ian said. “I have a feathered hat that would go with this.”
    “Yeah,” Aden said, looking over his shoulder to a full-length mirror. “Then you'd look like a big, white cock.”
    The clerk scowled but Ian looked amused. “I'll take it,” he said.
    Aden rolled his eyes. They stepped outside, noticing a particularly cold breeze.
    “Aden,” Ian began a bit apprehensively. “About what you said before...”
    “When?”
    “Rather, what you asked before...”
    They were interrupted by a hand gripping each of their shoulders. “Shopping?” The young man asked. “Really? Is this what you two do all day?”
    “Jason,” Ian said, then he noticed another one. “Wyeth.” They were two boys from the academy. “Fancy seeing you both here.”
    “Yes,” Jason said. “Fancy that.”
    “Might I ask what you are doing?” Ian asked dryly.
    “Following you,” Jason said. He started to scope out the square, as if he was looking for something else to do. “Thought you might be up to no good.”
    “How thoughtful,” Ian said.
    “Come on,” Wyeth said to Jason. “We've already wasted enough time.”
    Aden spoke up. “You mean you were following us just in case we did something wrong?”
    Jason turned to Wyeth. “Is he speaking to me? I never knew the vermin could talk.”
    “What, were you going to run and tell your professor what we're up to?” Aden continued.
    Jason held his palm inches away from Aden's face. He wiggled his fingers and sparks of light flickered around them. “No, I had much different plans.”
    Ian batted his hand away. “Back off.”
    “Yes,” Jason laughed. “Protect the broom boy.”
    Wyeth was looking out to the edge of the square, right by the market. “I think we've got something here.”
    Jason looked excitedly. “Really?”
    “Look at the grey shirt by the yellow stand. I think he just stole a spool of linen.”
    “Are you sure? We don't want to be wrong about this.”
    “Well, he took it,” Wyeth said. “Let's see if he pays.”
    “What are they doing?” Aden asked Ian, loud enough so Jason could hear.
    “Patrolling,” Jason said. “For people like you.”
    “Excuse me?”
    Jason turned. “I don't know how you snuck your way into the academy, but you don't belong there. If I were in charge, justice would be served.”
    Aden considered touching him and telling him to kiss Ian's butt, but decided against it. Jason wasn't worth it at all.
    “There he goes,” Wyeth said. His had a jaguar's eyes, waiting to pounce.
    “Let's go. Stop thief!” Jason called, attracting the attention of everyone nearby.
    The thief heard and picked up his speed. The crowd parted slightly in their path, to avoid the confrontation.
    Jason's hands lit up with a blinding light. It was light essence, the material of the brigade. Like a striking serpent, the light lashed forward at the thief. The line struck him and maintained its grasp, creating a channel between Jason and his prey.
    The thief screamed. Light essence can heal, but it is extremely torturous to touch.
    Wyeth appeared out of the crowd and his hands lit up as well. It wasn't the same as Jason's. He didn't have the natural grace Jason did and his spark was lighter, more jittery, without the same intensity.
    Wyeth spread his hands out to the crowd. Sparks jumped from palm to palm, warning onlookers not to get too close.
    The thief's screams were desperate. It wasn't justice. It was torture.
    “Ian,” Aden said. “This isn't right.”
    “Who said it was?” Ian asked, strangely quiet.
    Jason still held his grip on the thief, the light essence pulsed between them. He was enjoying it, sadistically.
    “Jason!” Aden yelled. Jason ignored him. He ran up behind and gripped his shoulder. “Let him go!”
    Instantly, the light essence died and Jason turned around. Aden lost his grip. If he wasn't touching Jason, he couldn't persuade him. That wasn't good.
    “Excuse me?” Jason asked. The thief ran away in a scramble behind.
    “You heard me,” Aden said.
    “Who are you to question the brigade?”
    “You're not part of the brigade yet,” Aden answered quickly. He tried to make himself look taller.
    “And who are you?” he demanded. His hands sparked. “I should teach you a lesson.”
    “Don't touch me.”
    Wyeth looked amused. “Touch him, Jason.”
    “Back off,” Ian said, stepping partly in front of Aden.
    “Do it,” Aden said. He stepped forward, as close to Jason as possible.
    Jason lifted both of his palms. They were sparkling. “Have it your way.”
    Aden's fist jabbed forward suddenly. He punched Jason right in the nose, sending him back several steps. Wyeth grabbed Aden's shoulder and pulled him back, but Aden wriggled free. He somehow slammed Wyeth into the cobblestone in the process. Aden leapt at Jason, grabbing his neck with both hands.
    Light essence was suddenly on him, everywhere, all over his body. Jason's hands were grasping Aden's wrists sending a current through his very being. It hurt more than anything he could remember, but now they were touching. Aden could use a little magic of his own.
    “Let go,” Aden commanded. Jason let go. He said the next part in whispers, so no one else could hear. “Leave now. Go back to the academy. Be ashamed and don't...�h
    Wyeth was up again and he tore Aden off of his friend. Jason immediately ran away, doing as he was told. Wyeth barely noticed. He lit up his hands, mustered an angry bolt of light and shot it forward.
    Ian caught it. Aden didn't know how or why, but somehow essences could catch other skyborn magic. Ian caught Wyeth's attack with his own, absorbing it as Wyeth channeled it forward.
    It didn't hurt Ian, but he was straining. Both of them were straining. Aden knew it had something to do with their control of the essence, their strength and manipulative power. Ian wasn't strong. He was one of the weakest in the academy. But it became clear that Wyeth wasn't strong, either.
    The light from both sources met between them, moving steadily towards Ian. Wyeth knew it. Ian knew it. Both were weak, but Ian would lose.
    Ian stepped forward and Wyeth readied his stance. Ian's right hand was in the light, but his left hand reached out to Wyeth's chest. When it touched, something happened. Aden saw a glimmer under his palm, something barely perceptible, but something that  was undoubtedly there altogether.
    Wyeth's eyes lit up in exasperation and he breathed deeply, suddenly released of all his energy. He stumbled, letting go of the light and stepping back. There was a look of disbelief and fear in his eyes, and for a second Aden wasn't sure what he would do. Then Wyeth shook his head and ran away, back to the academy.
    The crowd erupted in chatter, not really caring who won or lost, but just excited that they saw a skyborn fight.
    “You alright?” Aden asked. Ian nodded. “Thanks for stepping in.”
    Ian shrugged as if it was nothing. “Let's get back to the academy,” he said. “I'm sure you've got chores to do.”
    They walked back in relative silence. Aden couldn't stop thinking about what Ian had done with his left hand. It was magic, no doubt, but it was skyborn magic of a different kind. It had an effect on Wyeth he hadn't seen before. Aden couldn't quite figure it out. Wyeth's eyes weren't full of pain, they were full of something else entirely.

                                                                       *        *        *

    After the night classes, Aden watched the students leave and walk back to the dorms. He had his broom and he swept the path, even though he didn't need to. He didn't have much else to do, and part of him felt a bit guilty.
    The older boys walked back to the dorms. Jason and Wyeth walked by without a word. Jason had glanced at him briefly, but said nothing. What would he be feeling? Did he know what had happened? Despite his progress, Aden still did not understand so much of his power. And he wasn't sure he ever would.
    Then she was there again. Abby walked alone. The other girls weren't far behind her. Aden rested on the broom. He didn't care if she saw him watching. He wanted her to know.
    Her eyes met his and she didn't look away. Her books were held close, snug against her breasts. Her blond hair dangled at the edge of her cheek. And her lips...
    She tripped suddenly, right in front of him. There was a high cobblestone Aden was grateful he'd never fixed. He was there beside her, instantly in one motion.
    Her hand was in his. “Let me help you,” he said to her.
    “Thanks.”
    Abby was in his arms and ready to be helped. Was it by her will or persuasion? He'd never know. The other girls weren't far behind. She saw. “Thanks,” she said again, ready to go.
    “Wait,” he commanded. She obeyed, standing still in his arms.
    The girls walked past, looking at both of them as if they were naked. Abby looked horrified, but she couldn't move. “Aden,” she began. How could she explain her own behavior?
    How could Aden explain his? “I'm sorry,” he said quickly. “I just... wanted to ask you.”
    “What?”
    The things he could ask her. “I...”
    “I have to go, Aden,” she said. Her hand was still in his.
    “I know, I'm sorry, just...”
    “Just what?”
    The warm sun had already dipped below the horizon. He loved her hair in the morning, but now torches lined the path. And in Abby's eyes he saw the fires burning all around him.
    “Don't move,” he told her. He took her by each shoulder and kissed her, tasting her lips for the first time. His whole body was overwhelmed but in each moment he felt part of him escaping, a hollow opening inside. She wasn't his and he took her.
    “Aden,” she said, backing away. They parted touch. She stared at him with wide eyes, out of the torchlight and now dark holes.
    He walked away first. The broom was left in the leaves. Abby was left on the path. He didn't feel right. He shouldn't have done that to her, but the feeling inside was unmistakable. He'd loved every second of it and wanted more. If it was so horrible, why did he feel so good?

                                                                       *        *        *

    Ian was back in the dorm. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Aden walked in and sat down on his bed without a word.
    “Today is just a happy day, isn't it?” Ian said.
    Aden agreed in a muffled response.
    “I saw you with Abby,” Ian prompted. This time, Aden said nothing. “First time I saw you talk to her since this summer.”
    “I kissed her,” Aden said suddenly.
    Ian's expression didn't waver. “Really? Did she... allow it?”
    Aden turned to face him. He didn't know if she allowed it. He'd never know. He didn't know anything about the power of persuasion. The only other type of skyborn magic he'd ever seen was what Ian had done earlier that day.
    “Ian,” he asked, “what happened today?”
    “That's what I'm asking.”
    “No, I mean what happened this afternoon at the square?”
    Ian shrugged. “Jason and Wyeth are idiots.”
    “You did something to Wyeth,” Aden said directly. “It was some kind of magic.”
    “Light essence.”
    “No,” Aden said. “That was something else.”
    “How would you know?”
    “Because I know what light essence does to people. There was something else in Wyeth's eyes.”
    Ian stared at Aden for a long while. He knew he was caught. It changed nothing. “You don't know anything about light essence,” he said, turning away. The conversation could have been over.
    “Ian,” Aden said quietly. “Can I see your hand for a second?”
    Ian lifted an eyebrow and seemed uncomfortable, nervous even. He extended his arm and let Aden take his hand.
    Just one touch and they'll do anything. “Tell me the truth,” Aden asked. “What did you do to Wyeth at the square?”
    Ian chuckled. There was a sudden excitement in his eyes, as if he'd just decided to tell Aden the truth on his own.
    “Dark essence,” he said.
    Aden let go. “What?”
    “Dark essence,” Ian repeated. “The opposite of light.”
    “It's skyborn?”
    Ian nodded. “I found a book in my father's chambers, away from the others. The power runs in my family. I've been practicing it in secret for a year now.”
    “You're serious?  But that's...”
    “Against the rules?” Ian laughed. “Aden, I wasn't meant for light essence. It took me years to understand it, to wrap my head around it. When I found this book, it all made sense. Everything makes sense.”
    “What makes sense?” Aden asked. “It's... evil.” He was repeating what he was told, what they'd all been told.
    “It is evil to force an unnatural power onto a child,” Ian said. “I was meant for this, Aden. Dark essence can do great things.”
    “What things?”
    “You've felt the touch of light essence? They say that there is no greater pain in the world.”
    “And dark essence?”
    Ian smiled deviously. He lifted his palm. In a moment, his hand was dark and cluttered. Every crevice seemed to suck the very light out of it's surrounding, collecting into a dark, empty void. “Stay still,” he said. He reached his hand forward and touched Aden's chest.
    Aden arched his back. The feeling was rhythmic, powerful. He breathed and each limb was warm with ecstasy. All at once he felt desire, love, and pure lust all about him. Ian's hand burned in his chest and he welcomed the touch, wanting more infinitely.
    He pulled back, just away from Ian's black hand. The feeling was gone. But just as the trails of light essence leave a wash of pain, Aden felt the dark essence still. It was maddening and he wanted more.
    “Don't...” Aden said, unsure what else to do. What was that feeling? Now it was anger, primal frustration and he didn't know why.
    “What?” Ian asked, amused. “You don't like it?”
    “I don't understand. It felt like...”
    “I know,” Ian said. “Imagine what you could do with this.”
    Aden shook his head. He couldn't look Ian in the eye. It bothered him. Everything about dark essence was just unsettling. “I don't like it,” he finally said.
    “Yes, you do,” Ian said. “But you don't like being manipulated.”
    That was something Aden understood. No one likes being manipulated. “Why are you hiding this?”
    Ian shrugged. “It's not allowed. We're being trained instead in the ways of torture.”
    “Torture that heals,” Aden corrected. “Does dark essence heal?”
    “No,” Ian said. “It is the opposite of light.”
    “So it kills?”
    Ian nodded solemnly. “Slowly, it drains the soul. Each moment brings you closer to death.”
    “Permanently?”
    “No. How do you feel now?”
    Aden was feeling back to normal. He felt refreshed, new again. All the negative feelings he'd had moments earlier were gone.
    “Do you...” Ian started to ask with a mischievous smile. “Do you want it again?”
    Part of him wanted it and would want always want it again. But not from Ian. He wanted that feeling from someone else. “No,” he said, and stood up. “I'm... I'll be back in a bit.” He slipped back on his shoes and went out the door, even forgetting his coat.

                                                                       *        *        *

    He knocked on Abby's door, unsure what he'd say or what he'd do when she answered. It took her a few moments, and he started to regret coming to her door. What would she say?
    Finally it opened. Abby's eyes were wide and confused. She didn't know what to say, either. She asked warily, “What are you doing here?”
    He shuffled his feet. “I'm... I wanted to say I'm sorry for what I did today.”
    “As you should be,” Abby said quickly. There was buried hate in her words.
    “I'm...”
    “What were you thinking, Aden?” She asked, crossing her arms.
    And there it was, the way she said his name. It was different than other words. She said it with care, as if she'd practiced saying it several times before.
    “I wasn't,” he admitted.
    “I mean,” Abby gestured to the rooms behind her. “The other girls saw, Aden.”
    He tried lightening the mood. “You could have slapped me or something.”
    “I don't know why I didn't,” Abby said. She really didn't. “I must have been so surprised...”
    “In a good way?”
    “No, Aden,” she said. “You can't just do that to people.”
    “I'm sorry,” he said again.
    “Well words aren't going to change things,” she said. She tried to close the door. “Goodnight.”
    “Wait!” Aden said, reaching out. He touched the back of her hand, which clenched the door. She listened. He didn't know why. Was it persuasion? “Tell me one thing,” he said.
    She held the door open obediently. He could let go of her hand. He could let her make her own choices. But right then again, she was his. She pursed her lips together,  moistening them. What would he ask her?
    There in the darkness, the torchlight gleamed. There again he knew that she would give him everything if he asked. He could watch her tomorrow morning, blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, never really sure what could have been. Or he could have her then. One command, one question. That was all it took.
    “Do you... ever think of me?” He asked. “I mean, do I ever cross your mind?”
    Abby smiled. There was uncertainty still, but all too well she knew the answer. “All the time,” she answered.
    Aden let go of her hand and she closed the door. He was warm, all over, and in that moment he knew that no amount of dark essence could match what he felt inside.

The Lady Blooms

       Every night, deer would cross the field behind her house and feast on her neighbor's vegetable garden. Bess watched them at the same time, just after sundown. She would take a break from her tools and wipe the sweat of her brow, then just sit and chuckle as they went.

       She knelt down one day, especially tired. The dry dirt was hard beneath her knees. She should have been grateful for the work. It was better than being poor, but it certainly didn't make life easier. Her fingers were callused and she had soot all over her pants. Her arms were thicker than they used to be, not like a man's, but they had lost that gentle elegance from when her father was still alive.

       She waited for the deer. Oddly, they didn't show. She was just about to go back inside, when she saw movement in the high grass. Something was out there and it wasn't an animal. Either it was human or it was an abnormally large and loud beast.

       Bess frowned and grabbed her ax, freshly sharpened that morning. She dove into the high grass and wriggled beneath the top leaves. With her weapon extended, she stalked the creature, moving only when it moved. She was close, very close to it, although she couldn't quite see it clearly. It was better to attack first even blindly, she thought, then to let them discover her and attack first. She leapt above the grass and brought her ax high to strike.

       “No!” A girl screamed when she saw her attacker. “Please!” Bess caught herself and hesitated. It was a girl, a young one at that. She had fallen onto her backside and held her hands in front of her face as if that would protect her.

       Bess lowered the ax. “What are you doing out here?” She demanded.

       “I...” The girl stuttered. “I'm... sorry...”

       “You have three seconds,” Bess said.

       “I don't have anywhere else to go!” She yelled in desperation.

       Bess wasn't sure what to do or say. She was in no way going to hurt the girl, she had just imagined a much different encounter. She lowered her ax. “You were going somewhere...”

       The girl seemed as if she were about to cry. “I'm just... hungry. I know it's wrong to steal, but I saw the vegetable garden from the street earlier today and...”

       Bess smiled, although it was too dark to see. “Well, anything ripe would have been eaten tonight anyway.”

       “What?”

       “Nothing,” Bess said quickly. “Come with me. I'll give you something to eat.”

       Bess turned to go, but nearly tripped. Her feet had become entangled in roots. One more step and she would have fallen flat on her face. She wriggled her feet free and looked back at the girl. She was standing now, still on edge as if she were about to sprint away.

       “I'm not going to hurt you,” Bess said. The girl didn't look convinced. “Listen, I'm not the one skulking around in the shadows...”

       “Actually,” the girl said politely, “You were...”

       She had a point. Bess threw her hands up in exasperation. “Alright, stay out here and steal vegetables. I don't care.”

       After several paces, the girl followed her. Now Bess had the peculiar task of cooking for someone else. She thought about what she had at home. There was a scrap of pottage left from that morning. Really, she had nothing else except a bag of peas and acorns.

       “Hold here,” Bess said outside her door. There was always hot coals in the shed, where she did all of her work.

       When she came back with her hand cradling a candle, she saw the girl's face for the first time.  She had thick, drab hair. Her eyes seemed to be dark and wide. She was returning the studious gaze, seeing Bess for the first time as well.

       “What's your name?” The girl asked.

       “Bess, and you?”

       “May.”

       “You probably have quite the story to tell,” Bess said, stepping inside. She lit candles around the room and fetched the pottage in the kitchen.

       “It's so big,” May said, looking around herself. “Where is your husband?”

       “I have none.”

       “You live alone?” she asked, troubled.

       “You speak as if I should be unhappy.” Bess set the pottage down in front of her. “I'm sorry I don't have anything else. We can go to the market tomorrow and get you a decent meal.”

       “You're not eating?” May asked.

       “I already ate,” she lied. She wasn't hungry, though.

       “Thank you.” May said. Bess had never seen a girl eat so fast in her life.

       That night Bess let her sleep in her father's bed. It had sat empty for years. Bess stayed awake for some time, unsure exactly what she was doing. A stranger was sleeping in her house. She could not remember a time that happened before.

***

       May awoke the next day in the afternoon sun. She was warm and fed and oddly secure. For the past week she had been sleeping in barns and carts, catching whatever sleep she could find. She stretched, wondering both what hour it was and where the woman was.

       She heard a clanking outside and discovered Bess in the shed near the field. So she was a blacksmith. It was a strange profession, but rather fitting. May smiled. She'd never met such a hard-edged woman in her life. Yet despite her rough facade, she seemed genuinely hospitable.

       Bess had striking features. She had remarkably clear skin for a labor-worker. Her figure was  sculptural and very smooth, but she firmly held her stance as if she wasn't sure how to stand beautifully. May wanted to fix her, wanted to help her become beautiful. It wouldn't be hard.

       She walked to the window and noticed a dried-up flowerbed attached. There was one dead flower inside. Someone had planted it in the Spring. They may not have kept it alive, but at one time they wanted the house to be more beautiful.

       May touched a dried petal. Then she pressed her fingers into the dirt, waking the roots. She willed it to rise, to bloom, to breathe again. The flower lifted its head and obeyed. It's stem stiffened. The leaves pulsed green. At very last, the petals unfurled and drank light from the warm sun.

***

       Clouds in the distance were dark that afternoon. Despite this, the sky above Billinwood was a bright, happy blue. Bess dreaded the coming of rain.

       May was ahead of her, walking in the market with her hands clasped in front of her. She was wearing a beige dress that Bess had worn when she was a young. Her hair was tied back, but still fell out in dark curls on the sides.

       She had been there nearly a week and had not said a word about her past or why she was there. Bess couldn't help getting attached to the girl. There was just something so new about her. She would not admit it, even to herself, but the girl captured something in her that she missed. May was waiting for something wonderful to happen, a great life with absolutely no doubt.

       She turned around and waved to Bess. “Come here, look at these.” There was a stack of roots on a market stand, sitting beside several piles of fresh vegetables. “If you boil these, they're delicious.” Bess would have thought they were scraps if she were by herself. “If you eat them raw, they're poisonous. You have to be careful.” May looked up to the lady at the stand. “Can I have a dozen of these, please?”

       “Four coins,” the woman said.

       Bess handed her the money and May gladly accepted the roots. “What are they called?” Bess asked her.

       May seemed distracted. She stared at the market square behind her, where every stand had two or three people buying goods before the rain came. Three men were on the side, though. They were soldiers, by the looks of them, but not from Billinwood. They were looking for something.

       It wasn't hard to figure out what was happening. “May,” Bess asked. “Who are those men?”

       “I...” May didn't know what to say.

       “You don't have to tell me why, but are they looking for you?”

       May moved quickly out of sight from the soldiers. “Yes.”

       “Do you want to go home?”

       She glanced at the soldiers and shook her head minutely. “Why are they here?”

       Bess felt a raindrop. She took May's arm. “We'd better go soon anyway. It's going to rain.”

       “Rain?” May asked. She looked up to the sky and widened her eyes. “Great sky...” She murmured.

       “What's wrong?” Bess asked.

       The sky darkened more, unnaturally so. Clouds rolled over themselves and a rumble echoed over the village. “We have to go, now!” May said. She moved towards the house, faster than even Bess could keep up with. More rain fell, but a hissing wind promised more.

       May weaved in and out of the crowd, somehow darting through people as they scrambled for cover. A larger sheet of rain fell down on them. Bess started to shove.

       Bess caught up with May and grabbed her shoulders. “Slow down!” She yelled. “Tell me why we're running.”

       May looked at Bess as if she were an obstacle she needed to climb. But still, even frightened, there was hope in her eyes. Then something strange happened in the sky. Both of them turned to see.

       The storm, which drove over the village as a mound of water down a stream, suddenly parted in the sky. As if a great boulder floated unseen, the dark clouds split in two and allowed the white light to shine through. Everything was dark except a column of light that gently fell on one part of the village. It fell on her house.

       May broke away and ran to the peculiar oasis. Bess didn't know what to do or think. Something was in her house, something that could not be rained on.

       Bess chased her inside and into her father's room. May was on her knees already, holding something in her hand. It was small rock of sorts. She could have been chanting, but she spoke no words. It was clear, however, that she was using magic.

       Within a moment, the sky darkened and rain fell. Whatever had warded the sunlight above them was gone now. May held the stone up, but looked to Bess, breathing heavily. Bess stared back with a look she would have recognized on her father's face.

       “What was that?” She demanded.

       May said nothing for a second, then answered nervously, “I hope it was enough.”

       “No!” Bess barked. “No more riddles, no more games. What is that thing you're holding in your hand?”

       May looked down at it and held it like a small creature.“A moonstone. When invoked, it negates skyborn magic.”

       “There is no magic in these parts.” There had not been since the war.

       Fifteen years ago, a war against tyrant magic had torn two neighboring kingdoms apart. In Ashland to the East, a skyborn came to power who used magic against the evil. He garrisoned a small army of disciples to fight the darkness. In Oskaria to the West, skyborn magic was outlawed entirely with penalty of death.

       Bess lived in Oskaria, and though she was alive during the war, had never seen skyborn magic and only heard of it through stories. May seemed much more aware.

       “How do you explain the storm?” She asked Bess. “The stone?”

       Bess lowered her hand, which she had raised with blind accusation. “Who are you?”

       May stood. She spoke quietly, but with firmness that Bess knew her words were true. “My full name is Isemay of Glasbury. My mother kept this moonstone and used it in service of the king.”

       “Why are you here? Why are you running?”

       “My mother is dead. She was killed three weeks ago.” Her words were void of emotion.

       “Killed?”

       “Murdered by the king.”

       Bess knew she was treading on a dangerous path. “Why would he do that?”

       “For this,” May said, holding the moonstone up to her. “He wants it for control. With this stone, he can invade Ashland to the East.”

       “But why did your mother have to die?”

       May shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “She would not give it to him.”

       “Upon penalty of death?”

       “This stone was made to protect us, not to destroy the skyborn people. Ashland is a peaceful country. He has no right to use this against them.”

       Bess stepped slowly towards the bed and sat down. “But... now your mother is dead.”

       “She took an oath,” May said quickly, then more quietly she added, “As have I.”

       “To protect this stone?”

       May nodded and sat down next to her. “That storm. It wasn't natural. I'm sure it was created to find me. The moonstone naturally cancels its magic. I shouldn't have left the stone here. It was just so important...”

       “Not something you should take to the market,” Bess finished for her. “You did the right thing.”

       May looked up. Her dark eyes were welling with water. “I'm so scared...”

       “Listen,” Bess said very suddenly, even surprising herself. “If anyone lays a finger on you, I'll...” She was at a loss of words, but finally said, “I'll protect you.”

       May pulled Bess close and hugged her deeply. “You've been so kind, for no reason at all.”

       Bess calmly remembered what it felt like to care about someone. She knew at that moment that if anyone did touch her, she would destroy them.

      

***

       There was a rap at the door not two minutes later. Both of their heads darted towards the sound. The guest knocked loudly again.

       “They found me...” May said quietly. She pulled away from the embrace and picked up the stone.

       Bess stood, a shiver of anger flowing down her arms. “Stay here,” she commanded May. “I'll answer the door.”

       “Please,” May said. “It might be dangerous. Just...” They pounded against the door again.

       “Stay here,” Bess repeated. Her axe was near the back door, she picked it up quickly and prepared herself to face whoever would be waiting.

       “What is it?” She asked gruffly after she opened the door. Her ax was raised.

       A young man was standing there. If it weren't for his cheap clothing, she would have guessed he was of royal blood. He was tall, well-built with thick arms. His stance was firm. His dark hair was pulled back and tied behind his head. His shirt had been partly unbound, moistened against his skin. The rain still poured down around him, but he seemed not to care. In his eyes was a determination that defied comfort.

       “Please, I'm looking for a girl,” he said quickly. “I think she might be here. Her name is Isemay.”

       “You've got the wrong place,” Bess said and tried to shut the door.

       The young man stuck his foot in the door. Perhaps he hadn't seen her axe. “Please, I... I know she's here.” Bess saw now that he had a sword strapped to his waist.

       “If you know what's good for you, you'll leave now,” Bess warned.

       “I understand she might be frightened. I want to help her,” he said.

       “If you want to help her, you'll leave now.”

       The young man looked Bess in the eye and considered what she said. “Is... is she safe?”

       “She is.”

       He stepped back very reluctantly. “Please tell her Tristen was here.”

       “Tristen?” A young voice asked eagerly behind her.

       “May!” Tristen yelled.

       May pushed past Bess and ran outside to see him. They collided in each other's arms and their lips touched a moment later. “What are you doing here?” May asked after a rushed second.

       “I came to protect you.”

       “You fool!” May whimpered. “Do you know what I've done?”

       “I don't care,” he said. “Don't you know I don't care?”

       “They'll kill you.”

       “Then I'll spend my last moment with you.”

       “Tristen, your life, your father... everything you left in Glasbury...”

       “It doesn't matter,” he said, touching both of her cheeks. “Everything I want is right here. May, I'll follow you forever.”

       May looked troubled. She grabbed both of his shoulders and kissed him close, shutting her eyes and letting the rain run down her cheeks.

       Bess watched from the doorstep. Her axe was still resting in her hand. She knew nothing of this girl. Ten minutes ago, she didn't even know her true name. How could she have let herself give so much for nothing? He was willing to risk everything for her and more.

       “You must come inside,” May said suddenly. She pulled Tristen to the door and noticed Bess as if for the first time. She smiled broadly. “Bess this is Tristen. He's...” She looked at him.

       “A friend,” Bess said warmly. “Any friend of yours is welcome here.” She realized that she couldn't smile.

       “Thank you,” he told Bess, “For watching her.”

       Bess wasted no time. “How did you know she was here?”

       Tristen seemed worried. “The storm,” he answered.

       “You sent it?”

       “Of course not,” Tristen said with disgust. “That was skyborn magic.”

       “Skyborn can create storms?” Bess asked.

       “They can do anything,” May said. “Each one channels a different power. Some alter the weather. Some manipulate fire. Some can make plants grow...”

       “Which one can control storms, then?”

       May shook her head. “I don't know. I know the king wants the moonstone more than anything right now. It is possible that the he, himself may have a skyborn working for him.”

       “Wait,” Tristen interrupted.

       “Who would stop him?” May continued. “What better weapon against fire than fire?”

       “No, I mean we shouldn't be talking about this here. May, that light on this house was a beacon to this whole village. If I saw it, that means others did, too.”

       “He's right,” May said, turning to Bess.

       “Come on,” Bess said, “I know someplace we can go.” Bess led them to the door, grabbing her axe on the way.

       Tristen took May's hand and kissed it. “I'm never leaving you again,” he told her.

       Bess opened her door to an unwelcome surprise. Three soldiers of the king were waiting in the street, ready with swords unsheathed. The unnatural rain still poured down on them.

       Bess lifted her axe. “Step aside!” She commanded.

       A soldier stood forward. “Release that girl, by order of the king.”

       “Never!” Tristen said, stepping in front of May with his sword extended.

       “Careful, boy,” the soldier said, “Is she really worth your life?”

       “She is worth twenty.”

       “She is also under my protection,” Bess said.

       May stood, terrified by the doorway. The soldiers readied their stance, as did Bess and Tristen. “So be it,” the soldier said.

       At once, all five moved in to fight. Bess latched her attacker's sword against the hilt of her axe and twisted it around to disarm him. The suddenly frightened soldier stumbled back away from her.

       Tristen had no such luck. He batted away the first sword and even made the soldier stumble back. He was strong, but another soldier was right behind him. He brought his sword down on Tristen's shoulder. It was a poor swing, but it effectively cut him open. Tristen screamed  and dropped his sword.

       Tristen found himself with a sword against his back. If he moved, he would be killed. The main solider saw May, unguarded. Bess jumped in front of her and held her back with one hand. With the other she extended her axe, ready to strike.

       The soldier held his stance, but noticeably hesitated. Without averting his eyes from the girl, he shouted, “Bind him!”

       The disarmed soldier grabbed a long strap of leather from a cart in the street. He bound Tristen's hands behind his back and kicked his legs so the young man fell to his knees.

       “You know what we want,” the solider told May, who stood behind Bess.

       “I can't...” May said.

       “Do you want him to die, right here in front of you?”

       “No!”

       “Then give me the stone!”

       Tristen said nothing. He came to protect her, not the stone. Bess was unsure. May reached into her dress pocket and held the moonstone. Would this one simple action start a war?

       Its power could protect Oskaria from skyborn magic to the East. But the King had other plans. He would use its magic to invade the troubled land. But right then, with Tristen on his knees in front of her, she knew she could never let him die.

       “If I give it to you, you will let him go?”

       “We will let him live,” the soldier corrected. “What would stop him from coming after us, once we let him go?”

       Bess almost resented his words. Was she invisible?

       May watched her love as she walked forward. She handed the solider the moonstone and he snatched it quickly. Immediately, the stone's power returned and the sky opened .

       A column of light fell heavily from above. Tristen's head was downcast, ashamed. May's hair was wet in curls on her shoulders. The soldiers seemed moved by the stone's sudden power. They glanced cautiously up at the sky, but held their swords ready to strike.

       They were gone minutes later. As they left, the storm covered them again like a blanket. May collapsed to the ground, her palms pressed into the dirt.

       Bess widened her eyes even further. In front of May, a small green plant sprouted out of the dirt. It continued to grow and stretch towards the wet sky. May was uninterested. Bess said nothing. What was there to say? There was so much about the girl that she didn't know.

***

       Later, Bess had a choice. After the sky cleared and May seemed to compose herself, she asked Bess to help her retrieve the stone and Tristen. May was finally alive and safe and she wanted to put them all in danger again.

       “May, are you sure you want this?” Bess asked her.

       “I cannot let him suffer for what I've done,” she said. Then as an afterthought she added, “And I made an oath to protect the stone.”

       “Do you really believe we can keep it?” Bess asked. “Even if we get it back, how long will it be until they take it again? The king has resources, many more than us. If he wants something...” She dangled the question as a suggestion. What two fools would stand against the king?

       May seemed unconvinced. “I... am not without resources.”

       Bess knew exactly what she was talking about. “The plants grow for you.”

       “Skyborn magic,” May said quickly. She turned away. “Not many know...”

       “Does Tristen?” Bess asked before she could stop herself.

       May shook her head. “I've never told him. People like me aren't welcome in this land.”

       “I'm sorry,” Bess said quietly.

       “No,” May said, suddenly excited as if something great had happened. “It is not something to be sorry for at all. This is a gift, a power most dream of.”

       “What exactly do you do?”

       “I channel the power of plant life. I make plants grow.” The words sounded strange on her lips. She'd imagined saying them many times, but had never heard them said.

       “Did you choose this power?”

       “... not directly.”

       “What does that mean?”

       May walked to the door. The bag of roots she bought at the market earlier had been tossed to the ground. “It means that plants grow for me if I ask them, but I never needed to ask. I can manipulate most nature, but only a little. I can even created a little rain if I have enough time.”

       She picked up the root and immediately it started to grow. Like a hundred tiny snakes, more roots wriggled out of the base and grasped onto her palm. Near the top a little green sprout unfolded. Then it stopped and May held it up as if it were a sculpture. “Some things come to people naturally,” she said. “You don't always know why.”

       She set the plant down and it latched onto the dirt. “We are not without resources,” she said. “I cannot stand idly by while the stone is taken from me.”

       “Then you will give your gift to the grave.” Bess could not take her eyes off of the plant, now motionless. “The stone is not worth your life. If they come at you, what will you do? Will you throw flowers at them?”

       In a sudden outburst, May turned to face her. “There is a reason why the moonstone is so precious. No matter what power they channel, skyborn are unstoppable if they are determined.”

       Bess left a grim expression on her face. “Do you really believe that?”

       She was quieter now. “Mostly. My mother would tell me that every night. But now she's dead and I don't know anymore.” She turned away. “She had so much faith in me and I've already... I've lost everything she left me.”

       “May,” Bess started.

       “Please,” May said. “I cannot do this alone. If you won't do it for the stone, do it for Tristen. If he is free, he can protect me. I won't be a burden for you anymore.”

       Bess realized quickly that if the young man was free, May would no longer need to stay with her. She didn't want her to go. Was it wrong of her to wish him riddance?

       May stepped in front of Bess and grabbed both her hands, rather, her fingers. She stared at Bess with large, troubled eyes. Her fingers were still wet from the rain. “Please,” she asked with a wavering voice, “Will you do this last thing for me? That's all I ask and will ever ask again.”

***

       Tristen lay on his side with his hands tied behind his back. He had been placed in a wooden cart with high sides, so all he could see were the trees steadily passing by above him. Yet he hardly looked. He felt nothing.

       “Woa,” a soldier called to his horse. The cart bounced to a stop shortly after.

       “What is it?” Another asked.

       “I... let me check.” Tristen heard him get off his horse. “It's a black albus.”

       At this, Tristen struggled to sit up and see. He twisted around and stretched his neck so he could look over the side. All three soldiers were off of their horses now, inspecting a black flower with looks of awe and fear.

       The black albus was incredibly rare, said to be an omen even. The albus was usually a white flower, void of decoration except for lines of gold on the tip of each leaf. Only very occasionally, the albus would grow completely black. It was said that a great misfortune would befall anyone who kills a black albus flower.

       “We almost trampled it,” a soldier said, relieved.

       “You believe the tales?”

       “You don't?”

       “Well... it's best to avoid it, either way. Come, get back on your horse.”

      

       May watched under the cover of a bush she had grown. The three soldiers found the black albus. All three of them jumped off of their horses. All three of them were very distracted. It was not everyday one sees that flower.

       “It worked,” Bess whispered. “Remind me not to cross you.”

       Bess held her axe, alert. The lean muscles in her arm were tensed and ready to strike. “Likewise,” May told her with a smile. “Go, quickly before they continue.”

       Bess crept behind the cart and waited for one to discover her. May had never killed a man, yet if all went to plan, she was welcoming fresh blood on her hands.

       These three men were starting a war. Many more would suffer and die if they took the moonstone back to the king. Killing them would effectively save thousands. She repeated this thought in her mind, over and over. Yet no matter how just it seemed, she still did not feel right.

       But the war had already started, she was merely striking first.

       When the soldier moved to the back of the cart, Bess was already swinging her axe down upon him. His throat was cut and severed before he knew she was there.

       The other two heard and scrambled to defend themselves, drawing their swords to face their sudden foe. Bess wasted no time charging at one. She screamed and threw her axe down on him. He was quick, though, with senses already on edge from the black albus. Their weapons collided and Bess saw another one coming up beside her. She pushed with all her might and jumped back, allowing them to regain their stance.

       May watched, feeling helpless. She's made sure to plant the black albus before they reached them on the path, because now that they were there and the moonstone was active and in their presence, she was powerless around them.

       The other soldier attacked Bess, enraged after a quick glance to see the first one dead. Bess rushed him and slammed her shoulder into his. She received a slap of the blade on her forearm, but far less of an injury than she would have gotten.

       They continued to fight, exchanging advantages and blows. He was a much better fighter than both of the other two. Meanwhile, the spare soldier jumped into the cart and grabbed Tristen. He dug the blade into Tristen's neck, just enough to make it bleed.

       “Drop your weapon if you want him to live!” He screamed.

       Both Bess and the soldier stopped fighting, but neither dropped their weapon.

       “I said drop it!”

       Bess had no doubt that the soldier's blade would find it's way into her belly if she let go of her axe. But she wasn't sure if May knew that, watching from the forest.

       “So be it!” The soldier yelled. He put more pressure on the blade and Tristen squeezed his eyes shut from pain.

       “No!” May called, involuntarily.

       Both of the soldiers glared towards her. “There's more of them,” one said.

       “It's just the girl,” the other said.

       May needed to do something, and while she could do nothing to the woods around the stone, she was not entirely helpless.

       A great roar sounded deep in the forest. May's eyes were closed as she felt the woods far away. It was not actually a roar, but several trees that decided to bend completely in a circle. Their wood and bark cracked and moaned. The echoes sounded like a giant beast.

       “What is that?”

       Bess smiled. She had no idea, but she knew May was involved.

       The roar sounded again, this time much closer.

       “Liam,” the soldier in the cart said. “Get the stone and ride to the castle. Do not stop for anything on the way.”

       “And leave you here?”

       “Do as I say!”

       The soldier backed away slowly from Bess and grabbed the moonstone, which was in a satchel on the dead soldier. He grabbed the largest horse and took off without another word. The hooves pounded into the dirt as they went. And May felt the forest awaken around her.

       Beneath the cart, several acorns were scattered in the dirt. May only needed one. As the soldier considered what he would do with Tristen, the acorn started to grow.

       “You killed a friend of mine,” the soldier said, “For that he will pay.”

       Tristen's whole body tensed. Bess watched coldly. The cart moaned, for a small tree was growing beneath it.

       The soldier looked down, realizing that something strange was happening. The cart shifted, then jerked enough to knock the soldier to his knees. “What is this?” He screamed.

       Branches crept up the sides, then over. The soldier was awestruck and he let go of Tristen, looking for an escape. As if it had been told to at that moment, the tree snapped the cart in two, breaking the wooden siding and sending the two men rolling to the floor.

       The disarmed soldier wasted no time scrambling away from the tree and running down the path. He left his horse and turned his head once as he left to make sure no one was chasing him. Or perhaps he turned to see how large the tree had grown. Either way, neither Bess nor May were watching him anymore.

       “Tristen!” May called, running forward and embracing the bound man in the dirt. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

       “May,” he said with a desperate smile. May touched the blood on his neck. It was not deep. “How did you do it?”

       “Later,” May said. She started to work on the leather around his wrists. “Tristen, I was so scared I lost you.”

       Tristen's hands were free and he used them to grab May and kiss her fiercely. “I'm just so glad I got to see you again.” May kissed him again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He accepted her warmly, but then held her hands away. “May, who did this?” He glanced at the tree. “Someone extremely powerful conjured this either to kill me or to save me...”

       May looked to Bess with a look that asked her to say nothing. “It... might be because of the stone,” she lied. “It can wreck havoc on its surroundings if used improperly.”

       Tristen touched the tree bark, now static and unmoving. “One more reason to get it quickly.”

       “The stone is gone,” Bess said. “We don't know where it is or where he's going.”

       “No,” May said. “We do know where it is going. The king will take it to Ashland.”

       “With an army,” Bess said. “You sound as if you want to intercept him there.”

       May did not smile, but shook her head instead. “I don't expect you to follow me anymore,” she said. “You've already done so much for me.”

       Hand in hand, the young girl and young man watched her, waiting for her next words. What would Bess do? She barely knew herself. “I can't go home,” Bess said. “My house will be ransacked in a day by the king. I did kill one of his soldiers.”

       “I'm so sorry,” May said.

       “It was my choice.”

       Tristen cleared his throat. “You are, of course, welcome to come with us.”

       Bess looked at him. He was brave, she would give him that. And he certainly seemed worthy enough for May. Still, he was just stupid enough to get May into trouble. She needed her, just as she did before.

       “Where are you going?” She asked them.

       May bit her lip. “There are three roads that lead to Ashland through the mountains. I don't know which one he'll take, but all of them are East. We'll have to listen for any word on where they might be going.”

       “He will need to send word to his soldiers around the castle, first,” Bess said. “We'll have a better chance of following them if we head South to to Bealcrest.”

       “We?” May asked.

       Bess took a deep breath. “I told you I'd protect you, and it sounds like you're going to go get yourself killed.”

       May smiled broadly. She squeezed Tristen's hand. “Then South it is.”

       They took the two remaining horses and went South, leaving the tree standing where it was. They stopped briefly in Billinwood so Bess could take what she needed from her house. It was funny, she'd lived there her whole life and there was little there she cared about. She should have been sad or at least regretful to leave so much behind, but nothing in her past mattered to her anymore. Everything she cared about now was right there beside her on the road.

      

    

Call of the Cunning

 

       “My lord,” the woman said. “I see something now.”

       Brennin stood. He rarely stood to anyone, but Emma's words were always heeded. “What do you see?”

       “A great power.” Emma crooned. She reached out in front of her as if something was there. “It will emerge tomorrow... in the East.”

       “What sort of power?”

       “A skyborn,” she said.

       Brennin listened for more words, but Emma was silent. When she channeled the power of prophesy, she would often lose herself and forget those around her. He turned away. “Then we will find the child and raise it in the power of light.”

       “No,” Emma said suddenly. “This power will not be of use to you. In fact...” The color returned to her face and she focused on him. “It will be your end.”

       Brennin did not look angry or even disturbed. Too many were watching. He would not show the least bit of fear. “Are you certain?”

       “I'm sorry,” Emma said. “It it not terribly clear. I see no face or names.”

       “Have you an idea where it will be?”

       Emma nodded. “On the outskirts of Ashland in the Thornwood Forest. I saw that clearly.”

       Brennin snapped his fingers and two men rolled out a map on the table. He followed his finger to the East, where Emma had described. There was only one village in the forest. It housed the keepers of a skyborn temple he had destroyed sixteen years ago. There had been dozens of such temples, he couldn't remember the area specifically.

       “It is close to the city of Stonewall,” Brennin announced to the room. He called his first servant. “Have my men there go to the village tomorrow morning and burn it down. Leave no survivors.”

       “My lord?” The servant asked.

       Brennin did not hesitate to slap him. “Do as I say, quickly.”

       “Yes m'lord.” The servant left without another word.

       “Brennin,” Emma said in a similar tone as the servant had used. “It was not my intention for you to do this.”

       “But it is necessary,” he said. Emma did not look convinced. He stepped towards her gently. “The Brigade of Light is not evil. If this power deems to destroy me, it is not good.”

       “But to slaughter innocents...”

       He lifted one finger to silence her. “You, yourself told me they are not innocent.”

       “I do hope you are right.”

       Brennin smiled. “And I you.” He offered her his hand. “Come, I'll walk you back to your chambers.” He took Emma's hand and walked through the parting crowd.

***

       Aden lay barefoot on the remains of a large broken column. The old temple was strewn around him, now nothing but ruins. Vines crept over every stone. Pieces of marble faces were half-buried in dirt. Aden lay watching the sky, letting time pass and waiting for supper.

       When he thought he heard a noise he sat up quickly, then relaxed. There shouldn't have been anyone near the temple. Still, it was close to nightfall and it was never a good idea to be alone in the forest after dark. So he strapped on his boots and headed home.

       Thorndale was not a large town. It sat deep in the forest and all of the buildings except for the bell tower were sheltered beneath the canopy of trees. In fact, if it weren't for the bell tower sounding every hour, one could easily pass through the forest without ever knowing it was there. There were no roads that led to the village, only a few bumpy paths known by the people who lived there. Aden did not often see other travelers in the woods.

       Yet another sound echoed and Aden ducked behind a tree to listen. Was he being followed? He heard scuffling, a tree-branch snapping, and finally a scream. It was a woman's scream.

       He rushed towards her without hesitation. The knife that hung from his belt was soon unsheathed. A ravine was not far in front of him. He picked up speed, ready to jump, but then immediately stumbled to a stop. The sound was coming from inside the ravine itself. And the woman, he discovered, was not in danger at all.

       The woman, more like a girl, screamed again in irritation and kicked the ravine wall. She was dressed very nicely, much too nicely to be walking around in a forest alone, but all down her back was a thick stain of dirt.

       “Need help?” Aden asked from above, slightly out of breath.

       The girl was startled, but perhaps more embarrassed. “No, I'm fine. I just... slipped down here.” She tried to wipe the dirt off her backside. “What is this thing, anyway?”

       “A dried-out ravine,” Aden said. “When it rains, it's usually four feet deep with water.”

       “I'm lucky it didn't rain today,” she said grimly.

       Aden extended his hand. “Here, let me help you out.”

       She considered it a second, then let him pull her out of the ravine. “Thank you,” she said, looking over her dress for damage. “My name is Abby.”

       “I'm Aden. Most of the dirt is on your butt.”

       She chuckled and tried to brush it away. “I just cleaned this.”

       Aden wasn't sure what to say. He'd never really talked to a girl so nicely dressed before. “Where are you from?” He asked her.

       “Stonewall,” she said, looking at him for the first time. Aden realized that he was silently being judged. “Have you ever been there?”

       “You're not that far away from home,” he muttered.

       “I'm sorry,” she said. “I guess I thought... well, you could say that I don't leave the city very much.”

       He wasn't sure if he should like this girl or not. She was pretty. She had blond hair and pretty blue eyes. But it was obvious that she didn't think very highly of him. “What's the occasion?”

       “I'm sorry?” she asked. “Oh, why am I here? I'm actually looking for a village, Thorndale. Have you heard of it?”

       “I'd better. I live there.”

       “Marvelous,” she said, genuinely pleased. “Can you take me there?”

       Aden shrugged. “Sure. It's not too far...”

       He started walking towards the village and the girl followed step beside him. “Thank you again. I was having trouble finding it.”

       “We don't get many visitors.” He told her. “Mind if I ask why you're here?”

       “I'm looking for a woman, an older woman. Her name is Chaira.”

       “Oh,” Aden said. He slowed down his pace noticeably.

       “What is it? You know her?”

       “I did,” Aden said. He stopped and turned to her. “She died... four years ago.”

       The girl stared back at him, her expression frozen. “I see.”

       “I'm sorry,” he said. “Did... you know her?” It was impossible that she knew her. Chaira had been bed-ridden for years before she died.

       “She was my grandmother.” Abby sat down on a high root and stared at the ground. “I found her name in the census records two weeks ago. I was shocked to learn she existed at all.”

       Aden fidgeted uncomfortably. “I didn't know Chaira had any children.”

       “She had my mother.”

       “...your mother never told you about her?”

       Finally, Abby's eyes met his. They were wet, like iridescent sapphires. “My mother doesn't even know I'm here.” She turned away.

       “She was a nice lady,” Aden said, leaning against the tree beside her. “Both of my parents died in the war and Chaira... helped me out a lot as a kid.”

       “I wish I would have known her.”

       A silent moment wandered by. “Would you still like to see Thorndale?”

       Abby did seem to consider it. “Yes, I would.”
 

***

 

       Not far away, a disciple of the Brigade of Light knocked loudly on the doors to the Stonewall Academy.

       “Come in,” Diorus called from within.

       Nicola barged in through the doors and tried to remember the importance of being humble. “Have you any word? Do you know the whereabouts of my daughter?”

       The old man at the desk smiled. “Nicola, how nice it is to see you again.”

       “Sir, I'm sorry but...”

       Diorus interrupted him. “I don't think I've seen you here since you enrolled her four years ago.”

       Nicola lowered his head. “Her education has been exceptional.”

       “Of course not.” The man coughed and shuffled the parchment on his desk. “I just like to keep in touch with my students' life at home. All I know of you and your wife is third-hand.”

       “Abby is well cared for.”

       “Until today it seems.” The man at the desk found the whole situation humorous.

       “Sir,” Nicola began. “I came here for information. If you don't have any...”

       “I do, of course.” His smile deteriorated. “A student said she saw Abby looking at census records a week or two ago. I checked the books today myself. Someone had recently opened the Thorndale records.”

       It made sense suddenly. “My wife...” Nicola said.

       “So she is off to see lost relatives.”

       “It would seem so.”

       Diorus nodded. “Abby is a very decisive girl. I trust she learned that trait from her father.”

       Nicola spoke mostly to himself. “Why would she leave without telling us?”

       “Would she have liked the response?”

       Nicola looked straight at him. Abby would reach Thorndale and find nothing. He needed to let his wife know she was okay. “Thank you for your concern,” he said dryly and left without another word.

***

       It was nearly dark when they reached the village of Thorndale. A few scattered houses were lit up inside. All of the houses seemed to have smoking chimneys on one end. Abby wasn't sure if there was more to the village than what she saw. Perhaps there was more in the daylight.

       “This is my uncle's house,” Aden said. They neared a house that looked identical to the one not far from it. “Well, he's not really my uncle, but he knew my parents.”

       “It's lovely,” Abby said through a grimace. Aden pulled open the door-flap and they stepped inside.

       “Fynn?” Aden called. “Uncle Fynn?”

       “In here,” a voice called from around the corner.

       Abby looked around herself in amazement. The walls were made out of stone, at least up until her chest. Then an odd mix of clay and straw formed the upper-walls and roof. The air was pungent with cooked meat and smoke. There were panels of wood that acted like a floor, but dirt was clearly visible through the cracks. Two grungy-looking mats were against the wall, which she dearly hoped weren't their beds.

       Around the corner was a wooden table, a small fire and a stove-pot above. An older-looking man poked at the pot without turning to see them.

       “Where have you been all day?” he asked.

       “Around,” Aden said casually, sitting down at the table. “I found something on the way home.”

       “Yeah? What'd you find?”

       “A girl. Is it alright if she stays for supper?”

       “What?” The man, Fynn, turned around and looked peculiarly at Abby. She wasn't sure what to do.

       “Pleased to meet you,” she said uncomfortably.

       He noticed her dress, clearly out of place. “The name's Fynn.”

       “I'm Abby.”

       “Welcome to Thorndale.”

       “You can tell I'm not from around here?” she joked.

       “Well, I know the whole village. There's not a lot of us, you know.”

       “You know everyone?” Abby asked nervously. She glanced at Aden. “Did you know Chaira?”

       Fynn wiped off his hands on a dirty rag and looked at Abby a bit closer. “Of course.”

       “She... she was my grandmother.”

       Fynn, oddly, did not look surprised. “Lidye had a daughter,” he said finitely.

       Abby couldn't tell what her mother's status in this town had been. “You... don't look surprised.”

       “Why should I be?” Fynn asked. “You look just like her.” He smiled.

       “So I've heard before,” Abby said, relieved.

       Aden spoke up. “You knew Chaira had a daughter?”

       Fynn grabbed a spoon and stirred the pot. “Everyone in this village knows,” he said. “They just don't talk about it.”

       “Why not?” Both Aden and Abby asked nearly at once.

       “Well,” Fynn said resolutely. “She left.”

       “But to never speak of her again,” Aden asked. “What happened?”

       “She left at a strange time,” Fynn said. “The whole world was backwards. Many bridges were burned. Lidye left after the temple fell.”

       “What did the temple matter?” Aden asked.

       “Well...” Fynn said. He sighed loudly and turned to face them. “She was a skyborn.”

       “A skyborn?” Aden blurted. “Here?”

       Fynn continued to cook. “Thorndale was a different place then. In those days, the old temple meant something to the world.”

       “What did she do? What could she do?” Aden asked. The skyborn were a rare breed. They were people with gifts, abilities to control and manipulate the world. To think there was one raised in his village, it made his head spin.

       “Perhaps you should ask her daughter.”

       Aden looked at Abby with a new realization. “If your mother is a skyborn, then that means...”

       “Light essence,” Abby said quickly. “The power runs in my family.”

       Aden's jaw dropped. “You?”

       Abby nodded.

       “Can I see it?”

       She had been warned as a child that they gawk outside of the city. It wouldn't hurt to demonstrate, though.

       She extended her arm and focused on her palm. The light suddenly sparked in her hand. It shimmered and grew to the size or her fist. Both of the men's eyes were fixated on it as if they had never seen it before. She twirled the light around, spiraling it around her arm. She felt the familiar tingle as it brushed against her skin. This amount she could control. She'd learned carefully how to manipulate the size.

       “What is it?” Aden asked.

       “Light essence,” Abby said. “The kinetic power of the soul.”

       “Can I touch it?” Aden reached for her hand.

       “If you desire a great deal of pain,” Abby said quickly to stop him.

       He snapped his hand back. “It hurts?”

       “It hurts others, yes,” Abby said. “But it can also heal.” She clasped her palm closed and shut out the light. “I'm surprised you haven't seen it before.”

       Aden still stared at her hand. “There's nothing like that here.”

       Fynn looked at him warily. There had been, years before. “Are you hungry?” He asked them. “The stew is almost ready.”

       “Famished,” Abby said. She sat down at the table, trying to ignore the tension that had just risen in the room. Aden clearly wanted to know more about the light essence. Fynn seemed to know more than he let show. She'd been there only a few minutes but could tell that secrets separated the two.

       “I hope you like meat,” Fynn said as he handed her a bowl full of hot stew.

       “It smells delicious,” she said. She took a worried bite.

       They ate in relative silence, all three lost in thought. After the meal, Abby asked them questions about Chaira, trying to know who she was. It seemed to them that she was just a nice old woman who could make a tasty flavored syrup. There had to be a reason, though. Why had her mother left and never returned?

***

      

       A disciple of the Brigade wrapped loudly on a door in Stonewall. This time it was Nicola who answered. “What is it?” he demanded.

       “Sir, an urgent message arrived for you,” the disciple said.

       “Let me see it,” Nicola said.

       “It is at your office,” the man said. “Strictly confidential.”

       “I am on leave today,” Nicola said. “Have Joneu receive it.”

       “He has seen it and sent me here. It is a message from Brennin himself.”

       Nicola glanced back at his wife, who sat by the fire. She looked away with irritation, but waved him away. “I will be back soon,” he told her. He grabbed his cloak and followed the disciple. “This had better be important.”

       His office was several blocks away and four stories high. It always disappointed him that he was slightly out-of-breath by the time he reached the door.

       “Nicola,” Joneu said when he arrived.

       “My daughter is missing,” Nicola said. “You know I did not want to be disturbed today.”

       “Read this,” Joneu said simply. He handed Nicola a parchment that had arrived that evening from Brennin. The directions were very simple. The village of Thorndale was to be burned to the ground tomorrow morning. There were to be no survivors. “We have hours to leave if we're to make it there by morning.”

       “This is real?” Nicola asked. His hand was trembling.

       “Of course it's real,” Joneu said. He dared to laugh.

       “This is no laughing matter!” Nicola said, throwing the parchment at him. “My daughter is there! Right now!”

       “Abby?” Joneu asked.

       “She left this morning,” Nicola said, pacing to the door. “I have to get her back.”

       “You have little time,” Joneu said. “The village will be destroyed tomorrow morning.”

       “By our hand!”

       “The orders cannot be disobeyed,” Joneu said.

       Nicola pressed his palms against the door handle and closed his eyes. One poor decision could cost him his daughter's life. “I will leave immediately. Send the men at dawn. I will meet you in the woods.”

       “Nicola...”

       “Please, Joneu,” he said. “Do not call the men until daybreak.”

       “Be careful,” Joneu said.

       Nicola nodded and left quickly. He went to the stables and saddled his horse. His wife would be worried when he didn't return that night. He wanted to tell her where he was going but he couldn't imagine what he'd say.

***

       Fynn was not surprised the next morning to see Abby's father wander into the village. The thought of his daughter returning to the village must have driven him mad. He continued to hang laundry in the morning sun as if he hadn't noticed him.

       “You there,” Nicola called, rearing his horse to a stop.

       Fynn glanced over to him, but continued to work.

       Nicola's voice immediately hardened. “You will answer me when I speak to you.”

       “You're looking for the girl?” Fynn asked without turning back.

       “Yes, have you seen her?”

       Fynn shrugged. “I haven't seen her since she left, sixteen years ago.”

       “My daughter,” Nicola said sternly. “Where is Abby?”

       Fynn took a few small steps towards him. “Does it tear you apart, knowing she returned to us? Does it anger you, knowing that some families cannot be erased?”

       “If I remembered you name I could jail you for this.”

       Fynn chuckled and stepped away. “Is that where you stand now in the Brigade of Light? Did Brennin's path give you everything you desired? Power? Wealth? A beautiful daughter who doesn't know where she is from?”

       “I am not from this... squalor,” Nicola said with disgust.

       “But her mother is.”

       “Her mother followed the liberation. This town is...” It would not be there by nightfall. “... a dead end.”

       “There is more power in these woods than you know.”

       Nicola chuckled. “More power? What power? Have you ever traveled beyond the borders of Ashland? You don't even know what power is.”

       “Abby will return to you when she is ready,” Fynn said, turning around.

       The spark lit up in Nicola's hand even before he willed it. A thread of light reached out and gripped Fynn in the back. He collapsed immediately to his knees. “Do not turn your back on me!” Nicola growled. “Tell me where my daughter is!”

       The pain was liquid through his entire body. Fynn could only remember why they had lost the war. There was no armor to stop the pain. There was no stopping a determined skyborn. They were not human at all. They were above others entirely.

        “The temple ruins! They left this morning,” Fynn gasped.

       Nicola released him. The spark of light died in his palm. “Pathetic.”

       He turned the horse towards the temple ruins and kicked it hard to a run. The morning light was bright. The brigade would be there in hours.

***

       “Honestly, I don't feel anything,” Abby said. She was sitting on the broken steps with her eyes closed.

       Aden was crouched next to her, staring at her as if she were about to glow. “Are you sure? They say that skyborn magic is more powerful here, more connected or something.”

       Abby winced and opened her eyes, “I'm sorry.”

       “Well,” Aden said, sitting down on the step next to her. “At least you got to see it.”

       “It's very pretty,” Abby agreed. “Do you know anything about it?”

       “About the temple?”

       “Yes, like where things were or how many columns there were?”

       Aden shrugged. “I can imagine, but I don't know.”

       “That's too bad,” Abby said. “I wonder if anyone does.”

       Aden heard something moving in the woods. It was something big, moving fast and not trying to keep quiet.

       “What's wrong?” Abby asked him.

       “You hear that?”

       “A little,” she said.

       “Someone's coming this way,” he said. He took her hand. “Here, come over here.”

       As he guided her behind a half-standing wall, she asked, “Are we in danger?”

       “I... hope not,” Aden said.

       Almost immediately after they were covered, a man riding a horse broke into the clearing. He was fit, but old enough to be his father. His noble clothes were torn from the twigs and branches he'd snagged on the way. Aden had no idea what to make of this. The man looked around himself anxiously and called, “Abby?”

       Abby groaned and rubbed her fingers through her hair.

       “You know him?” Aden whispered.

       “He's my father,” Abby said.

       “Abby?” Nicola called louder.

       “Do you want to run?” Aden asked her. “I know places we can hide.”

       She grinned and considered it, but reluctantly answered, “No.” She immediately put on an excited face and jumped out from behind the wall. “Father!” She called to him.

       “Abby, thank the sky!” Nicola said with a great sigh of relief.

       “How did you know I was here?” Abby asked, skipping towards him like a little girl.

       “Never mind that,” Nicola growled, “You're coming home with me now.”

       “Are you angry?” Abby asked, feigning surprise.

       He jumped off the horse and paced towards her. “If you ever leave home like that again, I'll...” His eyes caught sight of Aden and his jaw dropped. Abby had been alone with this boy. “Who is this?” He demanded.

       “This is...” Abby started to say.

       “Aden from Thorndale,” Aden said confidently, walking towards him with his head held high.

       Nicola wanted to electrify him with light essence. The little twerp thought he was a man. Still, there was something about him that struck an odd chord. “Aden, you say? Who was your father?” He demanded.

       “Gavin,” Aden said, unsure why he was asking. “Also from Thorndale.”

       For a moment, Nicola only stared. When he spoke, it was in an entirely different tone. “Gavin, you say?”

       “He... is dead now.”

       “Your father was a great man.”

       “You knew him?” Aden asked.

       “Of course I knew him,” Nicola said. “We fought together in the liberation.”

       “My father fought with you?” Aden asked, “A skyborn?”

       The smile on Nicola's face faded. “What have they been teaching you in that village?” The sins of Thorndale were strong. He hated the village before, but to deny Gavin's son the knowledge of who his father was...

       “What do you mean?”

       Nicola reached forward and touched Aden's shoulder. “Your father was the greatest skyborn I ever knew.”

       “My father?” Aden asked. He didn't know what to say.

       “The power of levitation,” Nicola said. “There wasn't a greater fighter in these lands. He could take on twelve men at once. He was a master of blades.”

       “He was a farmer...” Aden said.

       Nicola chuckled. “Before the war. When Brennin called him to fight, he left Thorndale to liberate the land.”

       Abby stepped in. “But Aden's not a skyborn.” She thought. She looked at him. “Are you?”

       “No!” Aden said quickly.

       “Perhaps not,” Nicola said. “Your mother wasn't. She was what dragged him back to that village in the end.”

       “But he died in war...” Aden said, expecting Nicola to say otherwise.

       Nicola sighed and turned back towards his horse. “It was a dark time near the end. Gavin was... great in his prime. Love does strange things to a man.” He gestured to Abby. “Get on, we're going home.”

       As Abby climbed onto the horse, Nicola looked back at Aden and realized something. He was going to die that afternoon. He hesitated, but then offered, “Come with us, back to Stonewall. I can tell you more about your father.”

       More than anything, Aden wanted to follow him. “I'd have let my uncle know I'm going.”

       “It is not possible,” Nicola said. “You must come with us now or not at all.”

       Aden looked out into the forest towards his home. “I really shouldn't.” He grinned. “You know what it's like to have a kid run out on you.”

       Nicola face was stone. “Very well. Thank you for taking care of my daughter while she was here.” He continued to stare as he led the horse out of the clearing.

       “Bye Aden!” Abby waved.

       Aden watched them disappear into the leaves and waited until he could no longer hear the hooves pounding into the ground. He was so excited, so filled with amazement. His father was a skyborn. How had something like that been kept from him all those years? He ran into the forest and hurried home. Fynn had a lot of explaining to to.

***

       Nicola was very quiet during the ride home. Abby was expecting much more, a lecture at least, but he hadn't said a word. The horse was skittish, moving between a trot and a walk as it hopped around the tree trunks. Repeatedly, Abby had to bat away low branches before they scratched her in the face.

       “Why are we moving so fast?” Abby asked her father.

       “We have little time,” he answered.

       “Before what?”

       He did not respond, but picked up the pace significantly. Abby wondered if there was something worse waiting for her back at home. Perhaps they wanted to lecture her together.

       Was what she had done really so bad? She'd only been gone a day. Why had they worried about her? She could have told them where she was going, but then they wouldn't have let her go. The whole thing was foolish. She was a grown girl. She could look out for herself.

       “Not a word, Abby,” he said sternly, and very suddenly.

       She looked up, confused, but then noticed what he meant. There were about two dozen horses lined up before them with her father's partner, Joneu, leading the way. She recognized a few of them as skyborn. The rest carried unlit torches and bows.

       “What is this?” Abby asked her father.

       “I said not a word!”

       “What are you doing?” Abby asked him in desperation. But she already knew.

       Nicola signaled to one of his men and jumped off the horse. “Take her back to the city,” he said, handing him the reigns. “Do not let her return.”

       “Father!”

       Her horse followed the other. “Please!” She called. The horses broke into a run. “Why are you doing this!” She screamed back at him, but he was already nearly too far to hear.

***

       Fynn could tell just by looking into his eyes that he knew. There was a sense of pride in Aden's face that Fynn had not seen in sixteen years. His father had similar eyes.

       “How could you keep something like that from me?” Aden asked after Fynn told him everything. They were sitting outside the house, next to the dark laundry hanging to dry.

       “It wasn't time,” Fynn said simply. He avoided eye contact. It was harder now.

       “Wasn't time?” Aden repeated. “My father was a skyborn! That's not something you learn when you're old enough!”

       “You think he was the only one?” Fynn asked. “This village, all of us are descendants of temple guardians. Thorndale was built to house them. Before the war there were a dozen skyborn who called this place home. It is not me alone. No one here speaks of them.”

       All Aden could do was stare. “Why?”

       Fynn spoke low, “Do you wonder why there are no others here your age? The Brigade of Light took the skyborn children away.”

       “You're serious?”

       He nodded. “They put them in academies, teaching them the power of light essence alone. With all of the skyborn under a tight watch, Brennin can make sure all of them grow up to be his precious disciples.”

       “But... my father fought with them. Did he...”

       “Your father fought the oppressive powers that were present before the war. When the tide turned, so did his allegiance.”

       Aden sat back. He imagined his father, his village, everything as it had been. There was so much he hadn't known.

       He turned to Fynn. “And my mother?”

       “She fought beside him. They were a team until the end.”

       “But she was... normal?”

       Fynn smiled and seemed to hesitated before saying, “I wouldn't call her normal. She had her gifts, but they were unlike your father's.”

       Aden sighed. “It's because of her I'm like this.”

       “Like what?” Fynn asked with a chuckle.

       Aden didn't see the humor. “I'm not a skyborn.”

       Fynn's smile faded. He studied the boy next to him, unsure. After a long thought, he touched Aden's shoulder. “Fetch me something in the house.”

       “What?”

       “In the crate beneath my cot there's a small wooden box. Inside you'll find a pendant on a chain. Bring it here.”

       Aden jumped up and ran inside. Fynn had always told him to stay out of that box. He had of course peeked inside as a child to see what he was hiding. It was a gold pendant with a shard of a red gem in the center. Fynn was going to give it to him. He should have been excited, but he was more anxious, a little nervous.

       He found the pendant quickly and held it in his hand. Something about it made him feel safer, as if everything was going to turn out alright.

       Outside, a noise shook the earth and rattled the wall. It was an explosion, something utterly loud and close.  A cold fear gripped Aden's chest. He'd never heard a sound that loud and sudden his entire life!

       He scrambled out of the house to see what had happened. Smoke was billowing high to the treetops. A family was screaming. He couldn't tell who it was. The whole village gathered quickly to see what had happened.

       Another scream sounded in the trees. Aden glanced quickly and saw small smoking satchels hurled through the air.

       “Watch out!” Fynn screamed. He was next to him and pulling him down.

       All around them, the world exploded. Aden covered his ears. Four blasts shattered buildings around them. Half of their house was destroyed. Pieces of stone and clay flew in all directions. More smoke covered the sky. After, a rain of fire-tipped arrows sailed in through the trees. Horse hooves pounded towards them.

       “What's happening!” Aden yelled.

       “I don't know,” Fynn gasped. More screams sounded on the other end of the village. Aden looked up in horror to see what was coming.

       Several horses were parading down on them, each man holding a bloody blade. Villagers he'd known his entire life were slashed into, cut open. Some of them tried to fight, grabbing what tools they could, but each of them were stabbed or shot with arrows. Aden couldn't look away. It was too unreal. This wasn't his home.

       “Aden!” Fynn screamed, pulling hard on his arm. “Aden, come here!”

       Aden looked at him, Fynn who was not cut open. What was happening?

       “Aden!” Fynn yelled again, pushing him into the house.

       One arrow shot towards them, it struck solid and hard into something. Fynn immediately yelped and collapsed into Aden's arms. Aden could barely breathe.

       He pulled Fynn into the house. The roof was on fire. “Fynn! Are you alright?” Aden's words were desperate. He wasn't. There was an arrow in his back.

       “Aden,” Fynn said weakly. “Put on the pendant.”

       He slipped it over his head obediently and couldn't look away. Fynn's face was contorted, his eyes different than he'd ever seen before. “Fynn, what... what can I do?”

       “Leave me,” he said, then coughed badly. “You must escape.”

       His head was shaking and his eyes were wet. “I'm taking you with.”

       “You must go,” Fynn said. He coughed again and blood came up.

       “Where?” Aden asked. “What's happening?”

       Fynn shook his head. “You must go to them,” he said, straining. “Ask them to live.”

       Two horses stomped passed the door. A woman was screaming nearby.

       “Fynn, I can't...”

       “Listen,” Fynn said with new strength. “You are not normal, Aden. Neither was your mother.”

       “What?” Aden asked. His heart was beating loudly through his chest.

       “She was a skyborn. Only two...” It was hard for him to speak. “Two others know this.”

       “What are you saying?” What kind of power would be hidden?

       “The power... of persuasion.”

       “Persuasion?” Aden asked.

       Fynn closed his eyes. “Go to them. Ask them to live.”

       “Fynn, I can't...”

       “Touch them,” Fynn said. “Ask them to live.”

       “Fynn!” Aden screamed. “I'm asking you to live!”

       Fynn smiled weakly. “Even skyborn magic is not that strong.” Then his body collapsed completely.

       Aden closed his eyes and heard everything around him. Fires cackled loudly. The screams were softer now. There were less of them. He let Fynn go gently and stood up. The roof would collapse in any moment.

       His hands were shaking. None of this made sense. Fynn was dead. He was lying in front of him. More than anything he wanted to stay but there wasn't time. He couldn't stay. Fear was swarming inside him but now something new was ignited with the flames. It was anger. Someone had burned his village to the ground.

       He opened the flap to his door and looked outside. Who were these men? Who was responsible? There were three horses by the bell tower. Two of them he didn't recognize. The third he did. With a sharp pain of betrayal, he realized who was responsible. It was Abby's father.
       An arrow planted itself in his shoulder. Aden screamed. It was burning, a pain unimaginable. Someone had shot him! He screamed again and ripped the arrow out. Right after, another arrow missed and hit the door frame. There wasn't time!

       He ran forward, straight to Nicola as fast as he could. He ignored the pain and screams as he ran. He didn't look around himself. This was no longer his home. He needed to survive.

       Nicola did not even see him coming. Aden grabbed for his wrist and gripped him tightly. When their eyes met, Aden said firmly. “Spare my life.”

       His heart skipped in horror when he felt nothing. There was no magic or power. He had sprinted into the bed of conflict for no reason. He was going to be killed.

       “I'm sorry,” Nicola murmured grimly. “It is no longer possible.”

       “Spare my life,” Aden repeated again. This was his only hope.

       One of the men noticed Aden. “Sir!” He yelled.

       “Hold!” Nicola commanded, raising his hand to stop him. Both of the men stared at Aden. Two others took notice.

       “What are you doing?” Another asked, walking his horse slowly towards them. There was command in his voice, too.

       “Joneu, this boy is Gavin's son.”

       “We have orders.”

       “I cannot kill Gavin's son!”

       Joneu walked his horse forward in irritation. “Then I shall.”

       Nicola's sword swung forward and held itself in front of Joneu's neck. “Do not touch him!”

       Joneu's eyes were wide. He growled through clenched teeth, “You dare raise a sword to me?”

       “You forget your place,” Nicola said. “They are my orders to carry.”

       “Think about what you are doing!”

       “Gavin was a friend who did not deserve to die,” he said finitely. “The least I can do is spare his son.” He looked down at Aden. “Hop on, boy. Quickly.”

       Aden scrambled up onto the horse with him.

       “Finish the job,” Nicola said to Joneu. “I will meet you later at the office.”

       As the horse moved away, Joneu called his men to continue. Nicola said nothing.

       They walked slowly out of the village. The trees were filled with smoke. Flames leapt to the sky. Only the bell tower still stood.

       There were no screams anymore. Everyone was dead. The entire village had been slaughtered and somehow Aden was walking out calmly. Had it been magic? Or had Nicola spared his life?

       Neither said a word the entire ride back. Aden couldn't say anything. He couldn't even think. His whole world had been destroyed and he was riding with the man responsible. Nothing made sense anymore.

       He thought hard about everything as they traveled. He wanted to believe that Nicola was good, but how could anyone do this? What kind of friends had he and his father been? Why had his father switched sides near the end of the war? Why was Nicola now a high-ranking officer of the Brigade and his father was dead?

       Sixteen years can change a man. Even if he sparred Aden's life, he still killed everyone else. Even if he had been friends with his father, he still burned Thorndale to the ground. Nothing would change that. And even though Aden was clinging to Nicola for balance as his horse rode them to safety, he was certain that would find a way, someday, to kill him for what he had done.

***

       Diorus sat in his office, writing a vapid letter to the academy in Glasbury. Late afternoon on a weekday, there was often little to do and the halls were usually quiet. He found it odd to hear a rapping at his door.

       “Come in,” he called.

       The door opened slowly and he reached for his glasses to see who it was. “Nicola?” He asked with a smile. “I didn't expect to see you back. You do bring good news I hope?”

       He nodded. “Abby is safe at home. You will see her tomorrow.”

       Someone else followed him into the room. It was a boy, rather, a young man. He was dressed very poorly, in both the quality of his clothes and his cleanliness. He seemed to be shaken, as if he had been through a great ordeal.

       “And who is this?” Diorus asked.

       “This is a new student,” Nicola said, then more gently, “I hope.”

       “A skyborn?” Diorus asked, standing up to get a better look at him. When neither responded, he asked, “No?”

       “No,” the boy said. He looked Diorus right in the eye. “Sir.”

       “Well,” Diorus raised an eyebrow. “You do know this is a skyborn academy...”

       “I know,” Nicola said. “I was hoping he could stay in the dormitories... perhaps take your other classes.”

       “Nicola, if he is does not have the gift, he cannot be part of it.”

       The boy suddenly reached forward and touched his shoulder. “Please,” he said, looking at him again. His eyes were dark. They'd seen a great deal of pain. “I can work or clean. I'll do anything...”

       Diorus noticed a tear in the boy's shirt, right over his shoulder. There was dried blood around the edges. What had this boy been through? Nicola's silence was unnerving. There would be no wound of course. He would not have brought a wounded boy to his academy, at least not a physical wound.

       “Have you a name?” He asked the boy.

       He removed his hand cautiously from Diorus' shoulder. “My name is Aden, son of Gavin from Thorndale.”

       Diorus raised his eyebrows and looked to Nicola, who averted his eyes. He looked back to Aden. Should he take Gavin's boy into the academy?

       He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “You may sleep here, Aden. We have room in the dormitories.”

       An immense relief was immediately evident in the boy. “Thank you, sir.”

       He made his way back to the desk and spoke to Nicola, “Take his things to the dormitories. Ask the students there for Ian. He has an extra bed in his quarters and Aden can stay there.” Nicola nodded in understanding. “Aden, I expect to see you tomorrow morning after sunrise. I will have a list of chores for you to do.”

       “Of course,” Aden said without remorse. “Thank you again, sir.”

       They turned to leave, but Diorus continued. “And Aden...” The boy turned quickly. Diorus hesitated. How had he allowed this? He took a breath and gave him a friendly smile. “Welcome to Stonewall Academy.”