River Heart

Chapter Five - Magic

Nerves were a funny creature. Her stomach was tight with them, bouncing around like butterflies with blades for wings. Every step through the long grass took her closer to her destination. Lyris reminded herself that she was a capable student and able to defend herself. The day before, she’d been caught off guard. There had been incidents during her journey to the village, but no one had bene physically violent towards her. She supposed, so far away from the Hidden Island and the Cities that boarded the Sea, the people here were more afraid. Why then, had they sent someone to beg help from the Myst? Or had the messenger simply decided on his own? She tried to imagine what her friends, which included a pair of Lady Knights, would do. They would be bold, and they would see the mission completed.

The young woman couldn’t help but wonder, if the people here dreamt of sending their children to the Island, as her own parents had. Probably not, if they were willing to kill a Student on sight. She flexed her fingers as she strode, chin up, towards the row of houses. They lent against each other like old women. Wooden frames with wooden panels between. There were perhaps two houses with stone walls in the whole village and in the central knoll was a trampled meadow covered in white and yellow daisies. It had been where she’d stood the day before and planted her hands on the stone wall of the well. She’d sent her power down through the earth, searching for the source of the spring. It had been a mistake to leave herself unguarded.

Not today. She glanced at the tall man loping alongside her and risked a smile. At least he could look out for her. Arn could alert her at least.

‘I can’t believe you want to do this,’ he muttered as the village rose before them. It had a small wooden barricade to circle it. Broken in places by age and scorched along one side with fire. Lyris couldn’t see anyone beside the wall, no guards or scouts to sound the alarm. Perhaps they did not expect an attack. A village on the border between two nations, she wondered how often it was raided. If there was a garrison or barracks in the local area she hadn’t seen it. It was a shame he didn’t know Lady Vincenza, or Lady Lanai, she thought then. He would never dare to stop them. Few people would.

‘I don’t have a choice,’ she replied. Determined to continue and to fulfil her quest she forced one foot in front of the other. It was still early in the morning, soft rays of sunlight cresting the mountaintop. The village was strewn with shadows and cold grass, damp with dew. A cat was perched on a doorstep, it stretched, yawning as they passed before leaping into the house through an open window and vanished with the flick of its black tail.

Lyris found herself peering around the corners as they walked, her steps faltering as though she was afraid. Fingers clenched into tight fists she told herself, again, that she wasn’t. She could defend herself against a pair of country fools who didn’t know any better.

‘We always have choices,’ Arn replied, his voice low. He kept his hand on his hip, as though there was a sword attached, which there wasn’t. They edged closer to the green and found it empty. No signs of life, apart from the flock of sparrows hopping around the grass. Lyris swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat and moved forward. As she had the day before, she set her hands on the stonework of the well and peered over the lip.

‘You’re not just going to bring up the bucket of water, are you?’ Arn placed his hands besides her and lent over, peering down into the darkness. In the depth of the ancient stone walls, she could hear a gentle dropping. A steady plod of falling water.

‘I have to take a sample of the essence,’ Lyris explained, ‘it’ll tell Morgalin more,’ the young woman added mostly to herself. Leaning over the edge, she was greeted by cold air. The day before she’d barely had time to look at the man-made structure before she’d been grabbed. She could see moss growing on upper rows of stones though, soft and spongy. Perhaps she’d take a sample of those back as well; just in case.

‘What if it’s not poisoned?’ Her companion frowned into the dark depth, ‘what if they’re just getting sick?’

‘Then hopefully it’s a disease that will pass,’ she scowled. Neither scenario was satisfactory. If the water source was affected, then how; malicious intent or a natural accident? If it was just a natural sickness in the village then would it start spreading to the rest of the borderlands?

‘If…if there’s an angry mob approaching,’ Lyris glanced at Arn.

‘I’ll let you know,’ he agreed.

‘Even, maybe if strange men-’

Arn held back his smile, ‘I’ll let you know if anyone approaches.’

‘H-have you,’ she drew in a cautious breath. ‘Have you been beside anyone as they use magic before?’

Arn surprised her by nodding, ‘a few times.’

She caught herself wondering, again, how he was so acquainted with the Gift. Perhaps he had travelled out from a city nearer the Island, but even that didn’t explain his apparent ease with her power.

‘I might be hard to reach,’ she explained.

‘I’ll alert you,’ he promised and offered her a careful smile. ‘Trust me?’

The alternative was to try this alone, again. It wasn’t a path the young woman wanted to take, not now she knew where it would end. So, she settled herself and planted her hands on the stone walls once more. Then she closed her eyes.

In some ways, this was such an easy task, Lyris wondered if she should feel disappointed that it was her quest. Able to access her own core of power, the young woman sank into her awareness of the surrounds. There was moisture in the scurrying clouds, but it wasn’t going to fall. The sun was too strong as it peered over the mountaintop and would burn through before mid-morning. Dew lined the ground in silver touches of fire, bursting with life and energy. Then there was the throb of water at the ends of her hands. The stones had been used for drawing water for the best part of a century. The well ran deep and cold, fed from the mountain springs. Lyris extended her awareness down through the darkness. Different coloured touches of water lined the sides of the walls, silver nearer the top then deeper and richer blue. Azure fading to indigo with flashes of pale green. Nothing that was out of the ordinary.

She could sense the surface of the water just below and stretched out towards it. It was cool to the touch and welcomed her. Twisting in a slow spiral as she carefully descended and was submerged. At the top of the well, her body remained, unmoving, gripping the edge of the stone walls as Arn kept watch.

Viewing the water, so far down and away from the fledgling light of day, in this way wasn’t dark. The liquid was alive with flashes of playful colour as it rose up from the deep springs beneath. Lyris frowned, unable to see any obvious sign of illness of tampering. In a well she and Morgalin had investigated before, there’d been an unusual smear of purple light along one wall, but here…nothing that she did not expect. The young woman dropped deeper and deeper down, it was a risk to extend her magical reach so far from her body, but she wanted to be thorough. She could feel a pinch of pain between her eyes, a warning that she was near the limit of her reach. Once she was a far as she could dive, the young woman started a slow exploration of the walls, moving over them with careful attention. She looked for cracks in the stone, colours that would be unusual or blended in a different way. Nothing. The walls were old and starting to crumble but they would hold a few more years. When she returned to the Island they would send a recommendation that a new well was dug, but there no sign of sickness or malicious intent.

As though she’d been holding her breath underwater, pain sunk from her forehead to her chest. Her lungs were burning and she began her retreat. Back to the surface and then slowly up the walls of the well itself. She pulled with her the essence of the water. Lifting it up from the depth of the source spring and trying to keep as many different twists of the power that it contained, within her grasp. It was like trying to catch rain in a colander. Successful to a point, but the longer it took for her to withdraw, the more essence would drift away. Frustrated as she returned to the top of the stones, she took a firmer grip on the raw power and pulled it up. Opening her eyes, she saw the magic in a tower, shining in the pale sunshine. Holding out her palm she pulled pieces of the essence toward herself, spinning it and condensing the twists of colour. From the essence, true water formed into tiny twisting spouts on the palm of her hand.

Deft, she pulled a clear glass flask from the pouch she’d managed to cling onto and encouraged the spouts into the container. They drifted as willed, sinking to the bottom of the flask, as though she’d merely scooped them up from the bottom of a bucket. Once they were in, she stoppered the top with cork. Later, she would seal it with wax, but it could wait until they were safely away from the village that had tried to kill her.

Her task complete the young woman turned back to the spire of essence that she’d wrought up from the depths and released it. It sank back in a rush, pouring back into the depths of the well and she sagged, staggering forward and wheezing for breath. There was the sound of roaring as the power returned to where it came, but that was quick to fade. Lyris slid the flask back into her pouch and secured the knot with trembling fingers. There were boots crowding her vision, she and Arn were no longer alone.