Lyra sighed as she tried to concentrate on the bobbing text. All day she had been browsing through one of the books she had grabbed from Master Malafar’s study and when she finally found the spell she wished to learn, the terrain had gotten rougher. She closed her eyes and tried to picture the page she had been reading. She had used this trick before to recall information she needed for tests at the Academy and she had been very successful at picturing the image of information she could not remember otherwise. This time, however, the trick failed. All she pictured was a blur and she opened her eyes in frustration.
Antello was still leading them through the sevemor forest, just as Syman had yesterday. She enjoyed this forest much better than the dark fargi woods they had left behind. Animal life was plentiful here and the birds sang out from early morning to dusk. They had even managed to kill a couple of rabbits yesterday for dinner. The trip was much more peaceful without having to worry about pursuit by the invaders, although Lyra still had the nagging suspicion that they were always being watched by something. Only Syman believed that the invaders were still behind and about to catch up to them. At least she was sure they were really heading eastward now. The sun was easily seen through the sevemor trees and she was delighted as well to see the sunlight dance upon the forest floor once again.
Lyra opened the magic book again and tried once more to reread the spell instructions for the Fireball Spell. She knew that some offensive magic would come in handy if the invaders ever bothered to pursue them again. She allowed her body to move with the motion of the horse and held the book a little farther away from her. Perhaps the resting of her eyes helped slightly because she was able to read most of the instructions.
Fairly simple, she thought to herself, smiling as she mentally practiced the formation of the fiery projectile. Of course only practice would allow the caster to increase its intensity and the speed with which she could create them, but she thought she could now at least cast the spell. She looked eagerly around for something to practice on that would not start a forest fire. Disappointment seeped through her when she found no suitable target and she closed the book and returned it to the pack.
Lyra ran her fingers through her short blond hair and thought how nice a bath would feel. Her hair was gritty and she was sure the rest of her was as well. Still, she was feeling pretty good after a decent night’s sleep, decent except for the dream. She thought about the strange dream she had last night and the night before. She had never had the same dream twice before and it bothered her. Rhodella was standing over her sleeping body, hands on her hips as she always did when she was about to lecture on something that Lyra had done wrong. But instead of lecturing Lyra on some failing, Rhodella kept asking her why she was here. Why had she come to these woods? Where was she going? Where did she get the ring? Why were there people following her? Who were the two boys with her?
Questions, questions, questions. It didn’t make any sense at all. Rhodella knew where she was going and who the boys were and it had been her mother who gave her the ring. It was just a nonsense dream and yet she had it two nights in a row. Was it her subconscious trying to tell her that she was making a mistake? Was she feeling badly about having given her mother a bad time while Rhodella was alive? No matter how many times she tried to analyze the dream, it just made no sense to her.
The sound of running water brought Lyra out of her thoughts and she looked expectantly ahead for the stream or river, the perfect place to practice her first fireball. Excitement rippled through her body as the sound intensified and she walked through the steps of the spell again. Trying to calm herself slightly, she mentally cautioned herself to have reasonable expectations. Her first fireball would not be a thing of greatness, rather it would probably be no more powerful than her fire lighting spell. The excitement threatened to overwhelm her again as she realized that while it wouldn’t be very powerful, it would move through the air in any direction she wished it to.
She always got excited when using a new spell and she momentarily thought of how proud her father would be to see her cast the spell perfectly the first time. Her excitement immediately died as she realized that Master Malafar would be horrified to see her cast an offensive spell. It wasn’t fair, she pouted. She had loved her brother, Alfred, as much as anyone, but she did not blame the spell that killed him for his death. By her reasoning, it could have been a spear or a thrown knife that killed him. Would her father then have forbid the using of a knife? Magic was neither good nor evil. It was a tool the same as a sword or knife, no more, no less. She was starting to feel guilty about her plan to learn offensive magic, despite her belief that it was not at fault for Alfred’s death, when the stream came into view. Her excitement level rose dramatically as Antello signaled a halt to water the horses.
Lyra sprang off her horse, handing her reins to Syman, and ran upstream so her experiment would not startle the horses. Finding a large rock protruding into the stream, Lyra scampered upon it and straightened her body, scouting for the perfect spot to unleash her first deadly missile. Selecting a pool formed by the swirling waters caught by a log, she inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh, sweet aroma of the sevemor forest.
Holding her arm bent at the elbow, she started casting the spell and felt the warmth of the magic as it started build. The exhilaration of the power building within her body swept through her as her fingertips began to produce tiny sparks. The heat of the magic within her hand increased and she knew it was almost time to unleash the missile into the water. Swiftly, her mind dashed back to the mental image of the book to make sure she knew how to direct the fireball. The distraction destroyed her concentration and her hand burst into flames. Screaming hysterically, Lyra looked at her burning hand in shock and was paralyzed to act. Suddenly, her body was falling through the air and everything went black.
Lyra awoke feeling chilled all over, everywhere except her hand, which was burning hot. She opened her eyes and looked up into Syman’s face.
“I thought I had killed you,” Syman sighed. “Let me see your hand.”
Lyra held up her hand between them and saw the big puffy blisters that covered it. Quickly she lowered it back into the stream where the cooling water soothed it enough to dull the pain.
“What happened Lyra?” he asked. “Why was your hand burning?”
The pain brought tears to Lyra’s eyes and she gasped, “Magic. I tried a new spell. Foolish.”
“It was a good thing Syman pushed you into the stream,” Antello interjected. “The water put the fire out.”
“Yes, but I thought you had hit your head on the bottom and died,” Syman shook. “I swear I didn’t even think you were breathing when I dragged you to shore.”
“How long?” Lyra croaked.
“Just seconds,” Syman answered. “It was just a moment ago. I was coming to see what you were doing going off on your own like that. I heard you scream and saw your hand burning. I didn’t think. I just ran and threw myself at you and we both flew into the stream.”
“Good thing you didn’t stop to think,” commented Antello. “Those blisters look bad, but they will heal quickly. Much more burning though and you would probably have lost your hand. Keep it in the water while I go get a salve to put on it.”
Lyra cried as she felt the current rippling over her tender hand. Each tiny movement of water striking the flesh brought a sting of pain, but the coolness helped the feeling that the hand was still burning. She struggled to sit up while keeping her hand suspended in the water and Syman, seeing what she was trying to do, grabbed her shoulders and rotated her into a sitting position. She stared down at her ruined hand through the clear running water. The movement of the water distorted the image, but the blisters were clearly evident and the blackened, scorched ring on her finger was visible. She thought about getting the ring off, but that finger was blistered so badly that she knew she would be unable to remove it.
Antello returned with salve and bandages. He sat a bit away from Syman and her and Lyra realized that they were still in the stream. Syman must have dragged her to the shore and just held her until she awoke. Antello liberally covered the bandages with salve and extended them to Syman.
“Wrap each finger separately and then the whole hand,” Antello instructed. “I saw the physician do this when one of Master Caulder’s men got burned by an oil lamp. His hand was blistered worse than yours, Lyra, and he recovered in no time.”
Lyra tried to smile as she lifted her hand clear of the water for Syman to wrap, but the burning feeling of the air prevented anything other than a grimace. Syman was gentle but swift. In just a few moments, he had wrapped each finger and then covered her entire hand. The salve was cool and without the movement of the stream water to sting her, the pain was soon at a bearable level. She thought momentarily of casting a healing spell on herself and quickly dismissed it. She had had enough magic for one day, maybe forever, and she wasn’t sure she even could cast it upon herself. Perhaps the pain would be a reminder of how stupid and arrogant she had been.
Syman rose and picked Lyra up, carrying her off to a shady area of level grass and laid her down. Antello brought a blanket and covered her up to her chin. He said something to her, but her mind was fighting for release of the pain and she passed out without ever hearing what he said.
Antello joined Syman at the stream and started unpacking the horses. “Despite what I said,” Antello whispered, “I am worried about her hand. It is much worse than Master Caulder’s man was and he still didn’t have full use of his hand after three years.”
“I know,” agreed Syman. “I know the man you are talking about. I would be surprised if Lyra didn’t know him as well.”
“I didn’t think of that,” admitted Antello. “I doubt she will even be able to hold the reins. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Syman frowned. “We need to keep moving or the invaders will catch up to us, but she is in no condition to go anywhere. I think we have to spend the night here and hope they have lost our trail.”
“I am sure that we lost them,” encouraged Antello. After a moments pause he continued, “That thing is still tracking us though. I haven’t seen it again, but I know it is following us.”
“I know,” agreed Syman, “but I think you are wrong about the invaders. They are not going to give up. You heard Klaarg threaten them. They are dead if they return without her. No, I am sure they are behind us somewhere. The only thing that surprises me is that they haven’t caught up to us yet.”
“Well at least we can use this time to get some food,” Antello offered. “I will rig up a fishing line and try my luck in the stream. Why don’t you go hunting?”
“Okay,” Syman nodded as he picked up his bow and decided which direction to head off in search of game. Hunting might very well take his mind off things, he thought. It seems he spent all of his waking time thinking about the invaders catching up to them or that thing out there finally coming down and eating them. And on top of all that, even his sleep was disturbed with the strange dream he had had the last two nights. All in all, he didn’t care for the Sakova very much and the sooner they got out of it, the better.
MistyTrail lay on the hillside watching the scene unfold below her. She shook her head in dismay as she watched the young girl nearly burn herself up with that foolish attempt at magic. Whoever taught that girl magic should have known better. It was a perfect display of too much power and too little sense. MistyTrail was no mage, but she knew enough magic to understand the fundamentals. Of course, the girl didn’t know that the Ring would interfere with the spell, but that was a poor excuse for lack of caution.
MistyTrail sat up and watched the tall dark boy head into the woods with his bow. The blond one seemed intent to do some fishing and she wondered if she should escalate her plan. The sleep talking had so far yielded nothing and she was running out of time. She still did not know who they were or why they were here. Tomorrow it wouldn’t matter because they would have to die. The thought didn’t sit well with the small Sakovan and she quickly decided to risk exposing herself. With the two boys out of the way, she could approach the girl and reason with her. If she failed there was a good chance that the boys would think the young girl was delirious and ignore her account of what happened. There was even the possibility the girl would dismiss it herself. Besides, she should use what little magic she did know to ease the suffering of the girl in the same manner she would for any wounded animal.
MistyTrail followed the progress of the dark boy to make sure she knew where he was going to be. She figured that the fisherboy would present no problem with the noise of the stream blocking out any sounds she might make.
MistyTrail crept down off the hillside and over to where the young girl was sleeping. Silently, she pulled back the blanket, keeping her eyes focused on the girl’s face for any signs of waking. Gently she reached for the girl’s injured hand and gingerly felt around it for the start of the bandage. Never letting her eyes leave the girl’s face, MistyTrail unwound the bandage and discarded it. The girl’s eyes twitched as the bandage touched the blisters as it was being removed, but she remained asleep. Holding the girl’s ruined hand in one of her own, MistyTrail used her other hand to shake the girl’s other arm until the youngster’s eyes opened.
“Say nothing yet,” MistyTrail warned. “I came to heal your hand, but I will leave if you make any loud noises. Your hand will be crippled if I do not heal it soon. Do you understand?”
Lyra’s eyes opened wide with fear and her mouthed try to form words, but her voice was lost in shock, so she nodded.
“Good,” MistyTrail smiled. “I can make your hand better, but I have some questions that require answers in payment for my services. Do you promise to answer my questions?”
Lyra nodded again as she tried to work the lump out of her throat. She wondered if this was another dream, or nightmare. It was still daylight out and the boys were not here. Could this woman have eaten them already? Was Lyra next on the creature’s menu? If so, why was she playing this question game with her? What did she want to know?
The woman, or creature she corrected for she had never seen ears so pointed before in a human, was holding her hand and Lyra’s pain was starting anew. She gritted her teeth as the woman started applying pressure to the blisters. Two arms and two legs. Looks like a person, but very short for a mature woman. Can’t be a monster. Must be a dream.
“This will hurt just a bit. Make sure you do not scream.”
Lyra felt a strange tingling running through her hand and flashes of hot and cold at various parts of it. Sweat beaded up on the small person’s brow as she appeared to concentrate and suddenly the pain was gone.
“Good as new,” MistyTrail smiled. “Take a look.”
Lyra lifted her hand before her eyes and saw that the blisters were gone. A trick she thought, but then she saw the blackened ring and her senses registered no pain in the hand.
“Who are you?” Lyra asked, finally recovering her voice. “Am I dreaming?”
“No you are not dreaming,” chuckled MistyTrail, thinking to herself that she had already tried that. “You may call me Misty, but that is your last question. You agreed to answer mine though and I have a few, like who are you and why are you here?”
“Misty,” Lyra repeated. “A nice name for a … a what?” Seeing the scowl on Misty’s face, Lyra quickly recovered. “I am sorry. Where are my manners? Just everything is so strange. I am called Lyra and I am from the Academy of Magic, somewhere north of Gatong. My father was the Master of the Academy before the raid. I am traveling to Alamar.”
“You have chosen a strange path to Alamar,” MistyTrail commented. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you about the dangers within the Sakova?”
“Yes,” Lyra replied, “but we have no choice. There are killers after us and the road was unsafe. It was certain death to take the road. How could the Sakova be worse than that?”
“It could be equally deadly,” MistyTrail sighed. “Why do these killers hunt you?”
“I do not know,” answered Lyra. “They have kidnapped my father and they seek me to make him do whatever it is they want done. He is a powerful mage and they must need one badly to kill everyone at the Academy.”
“And the two boys with you?” quizzed MistyTrail. “Are they wanted as well?”
“Syman and Antello?” Lyra murmured wondering where they were. “You have not harmed them, have you?”
MistyTrail merely shook her head and waited for the answer.
“They have pledged to see me to Alamar,” she explained. “The invaders will kill them when they catch us. I owe my life to them.”
“A price you may pay all too soon,” MistyTrail remarked. “That is a strange ring you wear. Where did you get it?”
Lyra held her hand up again and looked at the blackened ring. “My mother gave it to me,” answered Lyra. “I guess she didn’t have anything else worth giving me. It looks ruined now.”
“Where did your mother…” MistyTrail started to ask when she heard one of the boys returning. “Say nothing about me,” she whispered to Lyra. “Nothing. Your life depends upon it.”
MistyTrail moved so swiftly that Lyra was unable to turn fast enough to see where she went. Antello arrived a few moments later, humming a tune and carrying half a dozen fish on a string.
“Ah so you are awake,” he greeted her merrily. “I have captured some dinner. How are you feeling?”
Lyra was so happy to see her friend that she threw off the blanket and raced to hug him. Antello was surprised to see such affection from Lyra, but his mouth gaped open when he saw the bandages lying on the ground where Lyra had been sleeping. He dropped the fish and pushed her away just far enough to see her hand.
“What? How?” Antello babbled as he shook his head. “Your hand. Your hand is not hurt?”
Lyra held it up for him to see and then embraced him again. “No it is fine,” she stated. “Guess it looked worse than it was. It feels pretty good. Can we have a fire to cook the fish?”
“You must have used magic on it,” Antello guessed. “Only magic could explain that quick a recovery.”
Lyra broke the embrace and picked up the fish. “Magic, yes. Only magic could heal it so quickly. Where is Syman?”
“He is off hunting,” Antello replied distractedly as he stared at her hand again.
Lyra’s thoughts shot through her mind like a pile of leaves in a windstorm. This was too complex to be a dream and therefore it was real. The smell of the fish was real. The feel of Antello was real. This was too much for a dream. What then was Misty? That means she was real too. Was she human? Looked human except for the ears. Maybe they were just a defect. She had known people born with stranger ailments. Sakovan! Misty was one of the Sakovan. A cannibal. Could one’s ears be affected by eating other people? Why did she want to know about Lyra? Because they had trespassed on Sakovan land, she realized.
Lyra handed the fish to Antello and sank to her blanket without comment. Why had Misty asked her questions though? If they were guilty of trespassing, why weren’t they just killed and eaten like the stories said? Why had Misty healed her hand? None of this made any sense, but she knew that there was an answer to the riddle if she looked deep enough.
Lyra rose and headed for the stream. “I am going to bathe, Antello,” she said. “I will be back shortly.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but headed for the stream and stripped off her still damp clothes. The water was cold, but it was refreshing to rid herself of the grime she had been carrying. She replayed Misty’s questions over and over in her mind as she scraped river sand over her body. The questions Misty had asked were not terribly important. So why had she revealed herself to ask them? And reveal herself she did, because Lyra was sure that Misty was the entity that had been stalking them for the last few days. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was certain. She certainly matched the vague description that Antello had given some days ago.
Who are you? Why are you here? Who are the two boys? Where are you going? Where did you get the ring? Who was your mother? “Mother!” Lyra exclaimed out loud. The dream. Those were the same questions that Rhodella had been asking in her dreams and she thought it strange that Rhodella had not known the answers. Of course. Somehow Misty had been asking those questions for the last two nights, probably through some use of magic. That meant that Misty had been following them to get the answers to those questions.
Lyra finished washing and picked up her clothes and walked to the large protruding rock she had burnt her hand on. She spread her clothes out in the sun and lay down next to them.
The answers to the questions were obviously important to Misty, but why? If she was a Sakovan, and what else would she be, then why should she care about the reasons for her next meal coming into the Sakova? And why the interest in the ring Rhodella had given her?
Lyra looked at the blackened ring. Some of the darkness had come off when she bathed and she thought she should try to clean the rest of it while she was near a stream. She rose and went down to the edge of the stream. She felt her hand before attempting to remove the ring to make sure the areas that was blistered would not be hurt. She marveled at how smooth her skin was, when only moments ago it was all puffed up with blisters. She easily slipped the ring off to wash it and froze, nearly dropping the ring into the stream because of her shock. The ring had a sparkling blue stone of high quality inset in the center. The stone was in the shape of a five-pointed star and when she removed the ring, her finger underneath bore a blue five-pointed star.
She lowered her hands into the water and scrubbed both the ring and her finger with the river sand. She shook her head as the ring cleaned up nicely, but her finger retained the star. She scrubbed her finger again and again, but the star persisted. She wondered how hot the ring must have been to scar her hand so, but she quickly rejected such nonsense. The star on her finger was unlike any tattoo she had ever seen. It was not just a blue scarring of her flesh, but her skin was like the gem on the ring. She held her finger up so that the sunlight struck it and the light reflected off of the blue star as it would off the stone in the ring. She gently felt the aberration on her finger and it felt like skin, but it looked and acted like a gem. Unsure of what could have caused this to happen, she quickly slid the ring back on over her star scarred finger.
Lyra returned to the rock to finish drying and shook her head in wonderment. She could not even be sure that the star was not already on her finger before the magic accident. She hadn’t had the ring off since the night her chain was stolen. That was probably Misty too, she realized. It dawned on her that Misty had been following them ever since they entered the Sakova. So why hadn’t they been killed like the invaders had been? The questions of course! The Sakovans were not sure who they were, but there was no doubt about who the invaders were. The invaders offered a serious and obvious threat to the Sakovans, but Lyra and her friends did not. That did not mean that they would not be killed, just that the Sakovans had not made up their minds yet. And the ring had something to do with their indecision.
Lyra continued to work on the puzzle while she dressed, feeling excited that she was finally making some sense out of it. They hadn’t been killed because not everyone to enter the Sakova was a trespasser. That was obvious because if it was not true, there would be no need for any questions and they would already be dead. That meant that the ring had something to do with being allowed to enter the Sakova, but the ring alone was not enough or they would not be asking questions. The only plausible answer was the ring in the possession of an acceptable person. So who was an acceptable person? Did it matter, she asked herself. If she was acceptable, then they would not stop her from leaving. If she was not acceptable, then they had better leave quickly. Either way, their only course of action, was to get out of the Sakova as quickly as possible.
Swiftly Lyra finished dressing and ran back to her blanket. Syman had returned from hunting and had three rabbits. They both turned to look at her as she sped into the makeshift campsite. “Pack up, now!” she exclaimed. “We are leaving immediately. No questions. No arguments. Just do it.”