Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (8 page)

“Is that wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly, just odd. Describing your own magic should be like describing how your blood feels when it flows through your veins, unless you’re specifically calling on it. I wonder if there’s a disconnect between you and your magic. Between that and the size of it, I can see where you’d be having problems.”

“That’s good to know, I suppose.” I’d never spoken of that to anyone. I hadn’t thought to. I still had so much to learn.

The lunch bell clanged again. Griselda stood and stretched, then slipped into the leather jacket that hung from the back of one of the desk chairs in the front row. “We’ll figure it out. We Sorceresses must stick together. For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision about the wands and such. We’ll meet soon and try illusions again. Something simpler. We’ll see if there’s anything to what happened with that water, too. Have you had success there before?”

“Not exactly.”

“Your natural talents may just need time to manifest. Things will improve once you connect with your magic a little better.” She reached out and patted my shoulder. “You’ll get there. We’re already making progress.”

I gave her a few minutes’ head start. The fact that I was getting private lessons from the professors wasn’t a secret, but some students weren’t pleased with a foreign stranger receiving what they considered preferential treatment. I didn’t want to rub it in their faces.

I stepped into the space the dragon had occupied so recently and inhaled deeply. The classroom’s smell of old books and wood polish hadn’t changed, but I felt magic lingering in the air.

I reached deep inside of me again. She was right. I felt my magic as something living within me. Not an unwelcome guest, but not-me nonetheless. I ignored my hunger and focused, not comparing my magic to Aren’s, but feeling it as a part of me. The longer I stayed there, still and silent, the more familiar it became, and the less aware I felt of it.

My awareness of it returned as someone in the corridor called my name.
Celean
. I opened my eyes, and grinned.

I still had a long way to go before I could solve my puzzle, but something told me that we’d found one of the clues.

T
hree days
after I left the island, I still hadn’t encountered danger. Under other circumstances this would have pleased me greatly. Now, it only made me wonder why.

I had opened myself as well as I could to Severn. Where once I’d built walls around my thoughts to keep him out and kept my magic quiet in case he was able to sense it from afar, I now shouted my presence. As we rode on through the woods and over roads toward Luid, I transformed. I made flames. I experimented with unfamiliar magic in case that somehow drew attention. When we passed a farm I had once spent the night at, I stopped in and made it clear who I was.

They asked me to leave.

Luid was not my true destination. Far from it, in fact. My uncle’s home in Stenbrach, in the province of Durlin, was farther north and west of there. But Severn had to think I was coming for him. As soon as I knew I’d been spotted, I would change course and hide myself.

The plan was far from perfect, but it seemed the only way to be certain that Severn would leave Belleisle alone. There was a time, mere months before, when I wouldn’t have been so concerned. The island had defenses. They could all take care of themselves. Yet here I was, riding through the vast wilds of Tyrea on an obstinate horse, adding days on to my journey, in order to draw the danger to myself.

Time to move on. Either he’s seen you, or he’s not going to.

I made camp that evening far from the road. I transformed and hunted while the horse foraged, then lit a fire to cook the partridge I’d caught. The cooking was unnecessary, as I could have eaten the meat raw in eagle form, but the fire was pleasant, and warmed me long after the food was gone. I took the purple glass pebble Rowan gave me from my pocket and held it tight in my hand. I didn’t look at it often, not wanting to turn into a sad, sentimental fool. But the glass was a reminder of her, and of the fact that she was safe at the school. It felt good to have something to be thankful for even as I doused the fire and the cold night pressed in on me.

I missed her like I’d never missed anything before—at least, not that I could clearly remember. I wanted to think of her, and yet the memories pained me. It was like missing a limb, or my heart, and I hated it.
No wonder my father thought love was weakness,
I thought, and tucked the glass away.
Look what it’s turned me into.

I transformed again to sleep. The ground was far too cold and wet to be comfortable, and my feathers kept me warmer than clothing did. Though magic might save me from freezing, I still found it difficult to sleep while I shivered. It was easier to stay alert to danger that way, as well. No chance of falling into dreams. If my eagle’s brain was slower to strategize, to sort through human ideas and the consequences of actions, it was the price I had to pay.

I understood the appeal of this lifestyle to someone like the legendary Lyloch. Traveling as an eagle, without the worry of a horse and human concerns, would have been far easier. But the warnings and legends of my childhood, as well as cautions from tutors and elder Sorcerers, kept me from spending more time as an animal than I had to.

A faint sense of unfamiliar magic woke me near dawn, followed by voices. My mind and body snapped to alertness instantly.

They were already too close. I didn’t have time to transform and dress, and I wouldn’t let them catch me naked and unarmed. Instead, I moved into the shadows of an evergreen’s branches, and waited for them to pass.

I pushed away my frustrations with my own limitations. The inability to make clothing or to read human thoughts while in eagle form would still be there later to taunt me. For now, I focused on the situation as it stood.

I looked for the horse, hoping he wouldn’t make any sound, and found that the clever beast had slipped his halter during the night and wandered off.

Another problem for later.

The voices grew louder, distorted by a swirling wind that had picked up overnight. They came closer, and I found them. Three men, one with magic, and that was all I could know without being human.

They stepped into view. Soldiers, unmounted and wearing gray uniforms that identified them as belonging not directly to Severn, but to the province of Artisland. No sign of other humans in the area. Something about that thought troubled me, but I couldn’t think why.

“He’s here somewhere,” said a young man with a chin so weak it seemed to disappear into his throat.

“No shit,” muttered the oldest among them, a rough-looking fellow with one eye and a massive white beard. He kicked at the remains of my fire. “Shut up.”

They stood with their backs to one another, searching first the ground, then the treetops.

They’re looking specifically for me, then.
Severn had sensed me, or someone had. That was one problem solved.

I looked to the ground. My clothes and a pair of daggers my grandfather gave me were safe enough under the shelter of the tree I rested in, but they might as well have been back on Belleisle for all the good they did me now.

The young man who had spoken first spotted the horse’s saddle and my bags under another tree and looked through my things. I remembered my promise to Rowan, and resisted the urge to attack.

“You think it’s them?” No-Chin asked.

“Don’t know,” said the third man, one with a weathered face and gray hair. “Could be.”

Them
, I thought. Severn assumed Rowan was with me.

“Watch yourselves, boys,” the bearded one muttered. “He’s dangerous, and she likely is as well. Kill her on sight. Severn wants him alive.”

The young one scratched at his nose. “I thought she was ours to do what we wanted.”

Gray-Hair shook his head. “You are new at this, aren’t you? She’ll kill you before you lay a hand on her. You heard what she did to Lord Severn.”

The young one mumbled something about magic being ineffective if a person were unconscious, and my talons gripped the branch tighter.

“You have fun trying it,” replied Gray-Hair.

My idiot horse chose that moment to return from his foraging. He stood there, blinking at the men, shaking snow from his mane when it slid off of a tree branch he bumped into.

I might have tried to escape, to creep as well as I could along the ground under the pine trees’ skirts, where they couldn’t see me. It would have been wiser. But something deep inside of me told me to attack. I could blame the eagle’s hunting instinct, but I knew better. They’d have harmed Rowan. I didn’t need any more reason than that.

I moved slowly out into the light while the horse had their attention, careful to make sure I had clear space for my wings. The men didn’t notice me until I exploded from the tree.

The youngest man screamed before I grabbed his throat in my talons and ripped it out. I used my feet to push and my wings to pull me away from the body to avoid the hot spray of blood that would have matted my feathers.

The other two spun to face me as I landed in a bare oak tree. The one-eyed soldier one held a dagger in his hand, blade flashing in the thin afternoon sunlight. I leapt at him. He ducked, protecting his neck, and I swooped over his head, turning in the small space, gaining what altitude I could before aiming for the other one.

The gray-haired man appeared startled, and didn’t snap out of his daze until I was on him, battering his head with my wings as I held fast to the front of his coat with one foot. He spun around and tried to throw me off, but I held on and slashed at his face with my beak.

There’s something completely inhuman about biting an enemy. Still, he had a knife, and I didn’t. It wasn’t an unfair fight, and I wouldn’t have cared if it was. I ripped at his eye, and slashed at his throat and pushed off as he fell to the ground. Bright blood spread over the snow where he lay, gloves pressed to his face. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and crawled a few paces, then collapsed.

I couldn’t say I was sorry. It felt incredible to be fighting again, to feel my blood coursing through my veins, to be reminded of the power I’d been forced to suppress for far too long. The world came into sharper focus when I fought, every sensation heightened and every pain dulled.

Gods, how I missed this.

I flew to a higher branch in the oak tree and looked down on the gray haired one.

“It’s true what they say about you, then,” he called up to me. “Severn himself warned me how dangerous you were in either form. Perhaps I didn’t communicate that to the others clearly enough.” The other man made a choking noise, but the older man ignored it.

I prepared to attack again. There was only one left.
I might transform, take him off guard—

Footsteps crunched through the trees, and my adversary smiled. “It’s about time you showed up,” he called back over his shoulder. Though I searched with my mind and my magic, I felt nothing, even as six more men entered the clearing, all wearing the scarlet and gold uniforms that identified them as Severn’s soldiers, likely sent from Luid at the first sign I’d left the island.

Severn was gathering power from all over Tyrea. I hadn’t known anyone before who could hide a group of people from me, but that didn’t mean that such power didn’t exist. One of these men had managed it. As he lifted that defense, I felt magic burning in all of them.

I flew. Rowan had been right. I took too many chances, let my confidence lead me into trouble. Though it shamed me to retreat, I saw no other choice. I couldn’t win against seven men, and gods knew what sorts of magic hidden among them.

I made my way further toward Luid and opened myself for just a moment in the hopes that Severn would believe I was still coming for him, that the men would follow. Late that night, under the cover of a clouded-over sky, I returned to the camp site to see whether I could salvage anything, intending to resume my true course toward Durlin and my uncle’s home.

They’d taken the horse, as I’d expected. My bags were gone, and with them all of my food, my gold, my bedroll, my maps, and the potions that Emalda had sent for me. The sun had melted the snow in the trees, leaving my clothes soaked from the runoff, but at least they were still hidden. I dressed, shivering at the touch of frozen cloth against my skin.

I had my daggers. I had my wits, though I was beginning to lose faith in those. Best to stick with a human brain as much as possible, I decided, and struck off through the woods.

I had my magic, too, though the thought of using it to get more supplies gave me pause. True, I’d felt a rush of pleasure when my long-unused skills came back to life on Severn’s ship, and I’d have happily broken the minds of those men if I’d been in human form when they came for me. But where I once would have used my skills to manipulate anyone, months with Rowan had made me doubt my actions. Her look of horror when she realized what I did to people and how I used my power was burned into my mind, as were my grandfather’s suggestions that I find better ways to use my power, and the school’s strict rules about using magic against anyone.

They’re wrong
, I told myself. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. A little manipulation would allow me to get the supplies I needed without harming a soul—or a body. And I had good reason for doing it. If I succeeded, the people would have their rightful king back. Surely the prize was worth the small price.

Something crashed in the trees to the east. I tucked my soaked cloak under my arm, put my daggers away in easy reach, and ran deeper into the dark forest.

A
fter a few more private lessons
, I’d had no more success with Griselda than I’d had with Aren. I hadn’t expected miracles, but I wished I could contact Aren to let him knew that it wasn’t him who had been holding me back.

It was just me.

Still, I wasn’t going to give up. I’d used magic. True, my most impressive feats had happened while my magic was still bound. Everything I’d done recently had been harmful or destructive, but at least things were happening. And what choice did I have but to go on?

“Hey, you with me?”

I blinked hard and looked up. “Yeah, sorry.”

Bernard grinned and brushed back the blond hair that had fallen over his eyes. “You walked right through a mud puddle back there.”

I glanced down at my boots, which were, indeed, filthy. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

The smile disappeared from Bernard’s face. “Don’t worry about it. You know he’ll come back.”

I hadn’t been thinking about Aren, but asked, “How do you know?”

“Guys like him always show up when I don’t want them to.”

“From your mouth to various gods' and goddesses’ ears,” I said. “No offense.”

“Yeah, sure.” He forced a smile and gave me a friendly elbow bump, almost sending me stumbling into another puddle.

Bernard and I frequently worked together—he helped me in the library, and I assisted him with the manual labor that paid for his room and board and kept the school running smoothly. He was busier now that Aren wasn’t picking up the slack. We’d developed an easy way of conversing, skimming over anything of any real importance. As long as we stuck to easy and everyday topics, our friendship flowed smoothly.

No talk about Aren. No talk about Bernard’s desire to marry a Sorceress so that his children would carry her magic as well as what he carried in him, dormant, from both of his talented parents. Certainly no acknowledgement that he’d ever thought of me that way, no matter how briefly that might have been. No awkwardness.

Today we were to move hay bales into the new barn.

We rounded the corner of the huge, red building, and Bernard stood with his hands planted on his hips as he took in the sight of heavy bales stacked in teetering towers high over our heads.

“Little shits,” he muttered.

“What, the delivery men?”

“No, the kids. One of the students did this. They think they’re so damned special.”

I looked behind us and around the corner of the barn, but saw no one hanging around to watch. “Should be easy enough to figure it out. There can’t be too many who can use magic to move objects, right?”

Bernard waved the idea off. “Maybe a handful here, but I’m not going to let it bother me. Some people who have a lot of power think they’re better than everyone else, you know?”

My shoulders tensed at the obvious sideways dig at Aren. “Some of them are at least learning better, if people would give them a chance.”

“As I said, I don’t let it bother me. We should get started.” He stepped toward the closer pile.

“I don’t think that’s stable—” Before I could finish speaking, Bernard laid his hand on the stack, and the two bales on top pitched forward. “Bernard, get away!”

The bales fell, and Bernard stood frozen as the heavy blocks plunged toward him. He threw his arms over his head and crouched. I threw mine forward, not knowing what I was doing, and felt power explode out of me.

Move
, I thought, and willed the heavy bales to fall to the ground behind him. I saw it in my mind, and felt a push of magic. The bale exploded into a grassy cloud with a force that sent me stumbling back.

“Bernard!” I screamed again, and raced through the chaff that floated in the air, tickling my throat as I breathed it in.

I stopped. Bernard was still crouched in the same position as he’d been moments before, arms covering his head, trembling slightly.

I grabbed his shoulder and shook him, and he opened his eyes, then stood. He reached out and pulled a piece of hay from my hair.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” I reached out and touched him again to assure myself that I hadn’t blown any holes in him. He felt solid enough.

Bernard grinned, then laughed until he sat in the mud, hands clasped around his stomach. I began to worry that I’d saved his body, but broken his mind.

“What? Bernard, say something!”

He wiped his eyes. “I’m fine! It’s just...I don’t even know. That was terrifying. I thought I was in for a snapped neck, and who saves me but the broken Sorceress herself, the mistress of mayhem?”

I punched his arm and sat beside him, suddenly shaky-legged and out of breath with relief. “I guess you’re lucky I didn’t set you on fire. I wasn’t trying to make it blow up. I was trying to push it away.”

Bernard swallowed hard and stopped laughing. He took my hands in his and squeezed. “Rowan, you saved me. That thing didn’t hit me at all. I didn’t feel anything. You did it! You used your magic, and you saved my life!”

“But I did it wrong.”

“So? You did something good. Enjoy that.”

I leaned forward to rest my forehead on my knees. True, it hadn’t been what I expected. But when I didn’t have time to worry about hurting someone, when I didn’t over-think it, my magic had accomplished something.

Bernard leapt to his feet and held out a hand to pull me to mine. “Come on, we’re going to tell Father.” He pulled me into a massive hug, and I squeezed back.

Wait until I tell Aren
, I thought, and felt a flash of heartache as I remembered there was no way to do that.

Then Bernard grabbed my hand to pull me back to the house, and I tried to enjoy the moment.

Aren would want me to celebrate.