THE EXIT WAS right . . . here. He reached out to where he thought the passageway would be—where it should be—but his hand found nothing but rough rock walls.
“What do you remember?” someone asked from nearby.
“Who’s there? Do I know you?” It was dark. It was always dark—wasn’t it?
“It’s me,” the voice replied. “We’ve met many times.”
“Why is it dark?” The man—it was a man—sounded very weary. Perhaps he wasn’t able to sleep the way he was. Although he didn’t feel exactly refreshed.
“The light went out,” the man said. “You’ll need to create another one. First, you need to collect the energy. Then you need to concentrate.”
“I do? How do I do any of that?”
“Have some water,” the man said. “And some journey bread. It’s the last of it.”
Something was thrust into his arms—a waterskin and a piece of hard bread. He took a sip of water. “That’s much better, thank you.” He gnawed on the bread, thinking about what the man had said. Collect energy. He raised his hand—he couldn’t see it in the dark, but he could feel energy flowing into him.
“That’s right,” the man said. “Collect the energy. Then concentrate on making a passage that will lead us outside.”
“Concentrate,” he mumbled to himself. There was a flash, and he felt the energy rush out of him. A small globe hung overhead. “I did it!” he crowed. “I made a light!”
“Now try to make a way out,” the man said. He was dark, his friend: he looked at his own hand, which was light-skinned.
“The exit?” He’d been looking for the exit, hadn’t he? “It should be right here, shouldn’t it?”
“You have to make it. With magic.”
“I see.” He yawned. Making the light had sapped all of his energy. Making a way out would be exhausting. Perhaps he should rest up a little.
“No, don’t go to sleep,” his companion said. “You can’t go to sleep.”
“But I’m tired.” He’d just lie down for a moment. The man kept trying to keep him awake, but he was just so tired. His eyes drooped closed, and despite the hand that was shaking his shoulder, he slept.
KARA PACED THE length of the railing, every so often staring out at the mage mist that covered the island. She could deal with the spells—she had enough practice with that—but another mad mage? Santos had been sane part of the time—what if this Mage was mad all the time? And what happened to Chal?
“Captain asked if we can wait until morning,” Reo said as he caught up to her. “When he’ll be more than happy to lend us some men. But not until then.”
“No.” She stopped and turned to face Reo. “I don’t need daylight. Set me down tonight, and I’ll clear a path.” She turned to look at the island. “You can come in the morning with the extra men.”
When she heard Reo sigh, she relaxed. He wasn’t going to argue with her.
“I’ll come with you,” Reo said. “And the men can follow tomorrow.” He stood at her side, facing the island. “You think Chal is in more danger than we thought.”
“I think we’re all in more danger than we thought,” she replied. “I’ll get my cloak and some rations. I’ll meet you at the dory.”
THE SUN WAS going down in a blaze of yellow and orange and red by the time the dory was lowered back into the sea.
Kara stepped down into the boat, Reo’s hand steadying her as she took a seat. Gani and Emek shifted the oars and started rowing them toward the island. The small beach where Chal’s boat had been hauled ashore steadily got closer.
“Oars in,” Emek said when they were a dozen yards away from the beach. He and Gani drew their oars into the boat, and then Gani jumped into the surf. He pulled the dory towards the beach, dragging them forward until Kara heard sand scuffing the bottom of the boat.
“Let’s go,” Reo said. With his boots slung over his shoulder, he headed to the prow and jumped into waist-deep water. With her own boots held against her chest, Kara awkwardly climbed over the gunwale and dropped into the surf.
Reo caught her shoulders and kept her upright until her feet found the sandy bottom.
“We’ll be back in the morning,” Gani said before he climbed back into the dory.
“I’ll mark a path where Kara has cleared away the magic and it’s safe to walk,” Reo called over his shoulder.
As Kara waded to shore, the waves tugged at her legs, threatening to pull her off her feet. Once she reached land, she paused to look around.
Mage mist clung to some of the trees that surrounded the beach, but the sand itself was clear. She walked up to the nearest patch of mist and reached a hand toward it. She didn’t feel anything from it: there was no sense of hate or ill intent. It didn’t even seem focused.
Reo joined her.
“Wait until I clear away the mage mist,” she said. “It’s just in the trees, so the beach is safe.”
All of the mage mist close to the beach had to be removed. Sailors might enter the trees to look for wood for a fire or dig a privy: she didn’t want them to run into any magic. Just because she didn’t feel any ill intent from this mage mist didn’t mean it couldn’t do harm.
Santos still didn’t know if he was responsible for the burn out on Old Rillidi, and if he was, he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. But the fire had still caused terrible harm to property and people. Pilo was proof of that.
She sat down and brushed wet sand from her feet and slipped them into her boots. Beside her, Reo did the same. He held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up.
She walked along the trees that lined the beach, waving her arms, willing the magic to disappear. She stepped into the trees removing more mist. It dissolved readily enough—any underlying spells really were unfocussed—and in a few minutes, she stepped back onto the beach and signalled to Reo.
“It’s still just one colour?” he asked when he joined her.
“Yes, so a single Mage.” She pointed at a path that led between two palm trees. “We’ll go that way. I’ll clear the mage mist, and you can mark the path.” She looked up at him. The sun had set but it was still light enough for her to see his face. Once they were in the trees, mage mist would light her way but Reo wouldn’t be able to see much. “It’s possible that simply stepping into the mist will get us to Chal faster.” While mad, Santos had created multiple relocation spells: perhaps this Mage had as well.
“No. We’re here to find out what happened to Chal,” Reo said. “Not follow him into danger.”
“You’re right, we don’t want that,” Kara agreed. And besides, a relocation spell could send them out to sea. She looked around. Had that happened to Chal? Had he stepped into a patch of mage mist and been sent to the middle of the ocean? She stared out along the beach. His body hadn’t washed ashore here nor had they seen anything on their trip around the island. She had to assume that he was somewhere on this island. Alive.
Kara walked slowly along the path, making sure all traces of mage mist were cleared not only from the trail, but from a foot on either side of it, too. Every dozen or so steps, Reo had her wait while he cut an arrow, pointing in the direction they were travelling.
It was slow, but safe. The moon was high in the sky when they reached a campsite.
“Chal?” Kara called as she rushed into the small clearing. “Chal?”
“He hasn’t been here in a long time,” Reo said. He set one boot into the remains of a fire and toed aside a charred log. “Maybe weeks. It looks like he only had a few fires.”
“It’s a pretty clear spot,” Kara said. “There’s not a lot of mage mist. That must be why he chose it.” She brushed at some mist that clung to a nearby tree, and it dissipated.
“We can stop here for a rest,” Reo said. “If you want.”
“Let’s keep going.” She took a sip from her waterskin and handed it to Reo. “I’m looking for the area blanketed with the most mage mist, and that will be easier for me to see while it’s still dark.”
“The most?” Reo asked as he handed the waterskin back to her. “Is that safe?”
“Probably not,” Kara replied. “So stay close. But Chal wouldn’t have known he was dealing with a mad mage. He would have headed for the area with the most spells, assuming that the Mage had been using magic with a purpose. Creating a place to live, for example, and not just generating random spells.” She studied the mage mist before choosing a direction. “This way. Mark the trail so that they know we went this way.”
She brushed mage mist away as she walked, pausing every so often while Reo marked their path.
“At least Chal had all his supplies with him,” Kara said. She was trying to hold out hope that the Seyoyan was alive. “Nothing was at either the boat or his camp.”
“Yes,” Reo agreed. “He should still have food for another week or so.” He bumped into her when she paused to study the mage mist that covered the path. “Sorry.” He removed the hand that had found its way to her shoulder.
“Leave it,” Kara said. “Your hand. Mage mist is really thick here and you need to be within my . . . I’m not sure what to call it. My protective sphere?”
“All right.” Reo’s hand returned to her shoulder, and she felt him move closer to her.
A bird called from nearby—a high pitched trill—and Kara tensed.
“None of the animals on the island are a danger to us,” Reo said into her ear. “According to Javan.”
“Thanks, I didn’t even think to ask.” So it was just Mages they had to worry about. Or a single Mage who was not in his right mind.
Kara led the way along the faint path. Up ahead, mage mist rose above the palm trees, but it wasn’t until they stepped out from beneath the trees that she saw the rock face.
Thirty feet high, mage mist swirled thickly at the bottom of it, but thinned out until only a few wisps reached the top. She peered up: bushes and grass lined the ledge above.
“It’s a cliff,” she said to Reo. “The mage mist thickens and then stops here.” She took a few steps closer, clearing mage mist away so that she could see past it to the rocks underneath.
Crevasses and cracks lined the rock and stones that had probably fallen from the cliff littered the base. And there—where the mist was thickest—was that a . . . ? “There’s a cave,” she said, approaching it. “I can’t see where it goes, but mage mist is really dense here.” She went to take another step, but Reo’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“We should wait for daylight,” he said. “And the sailors.”
“I can clear it of mage mist,” Kara said. “At the very least.”
“Don’t go inside,” Reo said. “We have no idea what might be hiding there. But I think we can assume that Chal went in and didn’t come out. Remember, we are here to rescue him, not share his fate.”
“Yes, of course, you’re right.”
It took her half an hour to clear all of the mage mist from the opening of the cave. Unlike the gentle ripples of mist they’d encountered along the path, some of this mist—some of the spells—had direction and purpose. Kara still didn’t sense any evil or malicious intent but it was much more difficult to remove actual spells than the unfocused mage mist that blanketed the rest of the island.
“That’s the last,” she said as she stepped back from the rock face. Firelight flickered across the cracked and lined surface, creating shadows.
“Tea is ready,” Reo said. “And soup.”
She turned to see him sitting by a small fire, stirring a pot with a tree branch. She crossed the small clearing and sat down with a sigh. Now that she’d stopped moving, she realized that she was exhausted. Gratefully, she accepted a mug. She leaned over it—fish soup—and blew on it before taking a sip.
“Thank you.” She put the mug down beside her and stared into the fire. “We must be close to finding him.” She didn’t say that she was afraid of finding Chal: that this mage mist—these actual spells—had her worried that the Mage wasn’t as mad as Santos had been; that he was capable of creating spells with purpose. And that one of those spells might have hurt or killed their friend.
“We’ll find him once it’s daylight,” Reo said, and she was grateful for his confidence. “And he’ll be fine.” Reo drained his own soup, rinsed the mug out, and poured something else into it. “Let me know when you’re ready for tea.”
Kara picked up her soup. It had cooled so she took a big gulp, finishing it in three swallows. She handed her mug to Reo, who rinsed it before pouring tea and handing it back to her.
“When you’re done, try to get some sleep,” he said. “You did all the work tonight so I’ll keep watch. My guess is that we’ll have four, maybe five hours before the sailors arrive.”
“Thank you,” she said again. She was too tired to argue with him, and besides, Reo was right. She had used her talent enough that she was exhausted, and if she expected to be able to do more of the same in a few hours, she needed some rest.
Her tea was only half finished when she spread her cloak in front of the fire and lay down on it, her head pillowed on her arm. As she hovered between being awake and asleep, she savoured how safe she felt with Reo watching over her; and how much she wanted him to do that—always.
THE EXIT WAS right . . . here. He reached out to where he thought the passageway would be—where it should be—but his hand found nothing but rough rock walls.
“There’s no way out.”
He turned in the direction of the voice. “I need to make one?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes. Using magic.”
The speaker was illuminated by a mage light that sat in the middle of a dirt path. He had dark skin and a head of white braids. Had he done that to him or had the other man always been dark?
“We’ve met before,” he said to his companion. “But I don’t remember when.”
“At least you remember something,” his companion said. “You don’t always. Now try to remember this: do not go to sleep. Don’t nap, don’t lie down, and do not sleep. Not unless you want us both to die in this cave.”
“I don’t want to die,” he said. “But I’ve spent most of my time in caves.” How did he know that? And where were the other caves he’d spent time in? Where was this one?
“Here, drink some water.” His companion handed him a waterskin. “There’s no food left, though.”
“Thank you.” He drank some water and handed the waterskin back to his companion. “You’re very kind.” He was certain that his companion would have shared his food if he’d had any. Had he already shared his food? Was that why there was none left?
“Kind, sure,” his companion said.
He seemed upset—was he angry at him? Had he done something to make him angry? Then he knew. “It’s my fault. If we die in this cave, it’s my fault.” If that was the case, he couldn’t very well blame the man for being angry. And still, he had been kind.
“Not your fault,” his companion said. “Someone did something to you—something that I think makes you create spells that you don’t mean to.”
“How do you know? That someone did something to me?”
“I can see it. There’s a spell around your head—a dark-grey spell.” His companion laughed, and it made him wonder if he was completely well. “I haven’t actually seen your face because there’s such a dense spell covering you.”
“Oh.” He felt a jolt of recognition. Someone had done something to him. It was just . . . beyond his ability to remember. “Did I deserve it?” he wondered out loud. “Did I do something so terrible that I deserve to be in a cave?” And if he had done something that terrible maybe he didn’t want to remember?
“I don’t see how anyone could deserve what you’ve been put through,” his companion said. “And I sure don’t deserve it but it seems I’m to share your fate.”
“That does not seem fair.” His head hurt and he was tired. He needed to think about this—think about what he should do.
“Do not go to sleep!” his companion yelled.
But it was too late. For some reason, thinking about who had done this to him made him tired—too tired to keep his eyes open. He sank to the ground—and into a deep sleep—despite the shouts of his companion.
“DID YOU HEAR that?”
Kara woke with a start and sat up. The fire still burned, but she no longer needed the light from it to see. She stared at Reo, who sat poised on a rock, an intent look on his face.
“Hear what?” she whispered.
Reo shook his head. “I thought I heard someone shouting.” He gestured towards the mouth of the cave. “From there.” He got up and took a few steps towards the mouth of the cave. “But I don’t hear anything now.”
“But shouting?” Kara asked. “You’re certain your heard someone shouting?” It had to be Chal. He was alive. Was he in the cave?
“Not certain, no,” Reo said. “It could be wishful thinking.” He sat back down by the fire. “I’ve made tea. Since you’re awake, I’ll head down the trail and see if the sailors have come ashore yet.”
“All right.” Reo left, and Kara poured some tea and sipped it as she stared at the mouth of the cave. What if it was Chal? What if he’d yelled because he was in trouble?
She got up and leaned over to grab her pack to look for journey bread. When she straightened, she stared at the cave. Two steps took her to the mouth of it, and she peered inside.
It was dark, which mean that there was no mage mist. It would be safe for her to investigate, wouldn’t it? She looked behind her at the trail Reo had taken. He wouldn’t be happy, but she’d just take a few steps into the cave. There might be an outcrop or bend in the tunnel that was hiding mage mist—she could just remove any that she found and make it safe for everyone.
She slung her pack over her shoulder and took a tentative step into the cave, then another. She was in total darkness now, for the first time since she’d stepped onto this island. She took another step and still there was no mage mist.
She reached out to touch the wall of the cave. The rock was cool and dry beneath her hand. She looked back outside: the campfire still burned and Reo hadn’t yet returned. Just one more step.
Air swooshed past her and suddenly she was surrounded by mage mist so dense she could hardly see her arm in front of her.
She spun around—there was no sign of the campfire—no sign of the mouth to the cave. All she could see was this swirling mass of mage mist. Automatically she started waving her hands, dispersing the magic until it was thin enough to see through, concentrating on making it disappear until all of the mage mist was gone.
“Who’s there?” someone called.
“Chal?” Kara replied. “Is that you?” A light was lifted shoulder high, and she saw Chal Honess. “Thank Gyda, you’re all right,” Kara said. She rushed to his side. He looked unhurt, but then he frowned.
“Kara,” Chal said and sighed. “No matter how glad I am to see you, I wish you weren’t here.”