Fire of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 4)

ELEVEN

The sounds of hooves crunching through the snow was the only thing that could be heard for miles as Freya, Morgan and the Knight rode through the forest, the sun shining surprisingly bright for a winter morning as they went. But as bright as the day was, Freya couldn't help but notice the gloom surrounding the man riding next to her that was the Knight. 

As was his habit, the Knight was dressed in his full armour complete with the helmet and all. It actually surprised Freya that he still did that even though they'd been travelling together for about two days now; it made her a little uneasy about the mysterious swordsman too if she was being honest with herself. 

Thing is, the pale-blonde archer had always been told that a person who hid his identity was someone who had no trust for anyone. But she also knew that identity had a lot more to do with than just trust; it was a portrayal of a person's entire existence. Hiding one’s identity was a denial of that existence, which caused her to wonder if perhaps that was what the Knight was hoping to achieve by hiding behind his steel armour.

However, Freya didn't dwell on her thoughts for very long; choosing instead to speak up to the mysterious swordsman. "So, what is it that has gotten you all tense?" she asked.

"Me tense?" he returned, scoffing as if to show the ludicrousness of that statement. "What in the world gave you that idea?"

"Come on, Knight, I’d think that by now you’ll know better than to treat me like the others that can't see past that hero exterior you put on," Freya replied. "Besides, your body’s so stiff even in that armour that you never seem to be able to take off that it doesn't take a seer to see how tense you are." The Knight didn't dignify the statement with a response, preferring to let the question hang in the air and Freya let him.

Underneath the helmet though, Kyra knew that the pale blonde archer was right; she really was tense. The truth was that even though she had transformed from the previous person that she was to another one, it happened that life didn't grant her the favour of just letting her drop some of the burdens that revolved around her former self. One of such burdens was the nightmare that plagued her whenever she slept. 

In the nightmare, she always found herself running through the corridors of the Wiccan tower in the night of a great storm. She was unsure of what really it was that had her running but her heart always beat almost to be point of bursting in terror.

She would keep running through the corridors until she suddenly burst through a door that led to a secluded room. She would realize it was the same room that she had been locked in by Saffron, a High witch who had betrayed and captured her some months earlier during the time she lost her Soul of magic power; complete with the slab the latter had laid her on and the chains too.

Just as fear would seize her at the realisation of where she was, she would suddenly hear the door close behind her, causing her to turn and see no other person but Fara. "Hello, Kyra," the dead Head witch would say to her with a smile so full of danger that it made her skin crawl, "I'm so glad that you came."

"What are you doing here, Fara?" she would shout at her. "You're dead for spirits’ sake!" She would will her legs to move away from the terrifying woman but they’d refuse to comply, somehow kept rooted to the spot as if by an invisible force.

"No, Kyra, I'm not dead," Fara would reply, pulling out a bloodstone dagger from her belt. "But you are about to be."

Before Kyra would be able to do anything, the head witch would come at her in a movement so fast that it would feel unreal, stabbing her in the heart with the dagger just as she reached her. "You were never meant to exist, Kyra," Fara would say as she pushed the dagger even deeper. "And now, you truly won’t."

It was always at that point that she would jerk awake; sometimes screaming to the point of tears. But most times, she woke with a pain in her heart so intense that it felt like she was dying all over again, never able to sleep again till the sun rose the next morning.

“We’re here!” Morgan suddenly announced from the front and Kyra was brought back to the present; they had reached the incending creek.

At first sight, one would conclude that there was nothing spectacular about the incending creek; just a small water body flowing through rocky shores. And truth be told, there really wasn't much to the creek in terms of looks.

But what made the creek so popular was the fact that it never dried up or froze regardless of what time of the season it was. It had even been recorded that during a great drought in the Barren lands, the creek became the only water source for the entire region, supplying every living thing around and still didn't dry up. It was as if neither time nor condition could affect the creek; and it never overflowed its banks nor changed its path.

Another thing that made the creek special was that it was always hot to the touch, also regardless of the weather condition; and hence, the name incending. There was actually a myth about how the creek passed by the lakes of fire of the Creator’s throne in the heavenly places before reaching its location in the Barren lands and so, it would be everlasting hotness. All in all, the incending creek was a water of awe and mystery; just like Kyra herself.

Just as Kyra thought to put her hand in the water, an arrow suddenly whizzed past her face and buried itself into the ground next to her. Turning, she saw two more coming at her and it was only by sheer reflex that she was able to jump out of the way as they flew past too. "Take cover!" she shouted at Freya and Morgan, both of whom were stunned by the sudden onslaught but quickly snapped out of it at her words.

Dodging arrows as they ran, the three of them took cover behind a group of trees that appeared sturdy enough to withstand the attack.

"What in the name of the Creator is going on?" Morgan whispered at them.

"Isn't it obvious, Morgan?" Freya returned at him harshly, irritated that he even bothered to ask. "Someone’s trying to kill us."

"Hey!" Kyra shouted out of her hiding place. "Whoever you are, if you want us dead, the least you can do is give us the chance to defend ourselves." In truth, she wasn't sure that her words would do anything but surprisingly, it got the arrow to stop; immediately replaced by the sound of footsteps in the snow. 

Coming out of their hiding place, they stood face to face with a lone man who dropped his bow and quiver of arrows as he saw them come into view. "Who are you?" Freya asked him, being the first to find her voice in that moment.

"I don't usually introduce myself but for you I'll make an exception," replied the man, pulling back his hood as he spoke, "I am the Cobra, the man whom death has sent to collect your souls."