Chapter 13

The Dires had earned and defended its reputation over nearly two centuries.

When the dragon population vanished from the Northern Sea, two groups set sail in search of their home continent. Both believed it would be valuable to find the land that the only magical creatures in existence called home. Both succeeded. In fact, historians often noted that the groups landed within a fortnight of each other—though few could agree on which group landed first.

The Tusk people settled on the western seaboard, while Ren's ancestors—the Delveans—claimed the south. Cities blossomed. The absence of dragons offered mankind a chance to rise. Magic was discovered and developed for the first time in recorded history. As populations swelled, both groups naturally expanded their territories. But neither the Tusk nor the Delveans found success in the very heart of their new continent.

The Dires was home to the very last dragons. There were hundreds of stories, mostly found in abandoned journals, about explorations gone wrong. Entire caravans that went missing. Later, when the dragons finally became extinct, the efforts to settle the Dires were renewed. Bold kings promised unimaginable riches to anyone who could establish a foothold in those territories, believing that there had to be priceless magical deposits in that land as well.

The result was ghost town after ghost town. No settlement ever lasted for long, because other creatures still thrived in that wild, desolate place. The Dires proved its name over the centuries, a land so dangerous that no one had ever produced a proper map charting its entirety.

And this was where the portal had taken them.

It was an effort not to completely panic.

How could we possibly have traveled this far? Even if our distances combined, there's no way we'd get ported across an entire mountain chain. How could the calculations be so far off? What is the missing factor? Maybe something about the waxways being an unstable source of magic? Or are the mountains themselves permeable?

"… anyone have a way candle?"

The specificity of that question dragged Ren out of her own thoughts. She looked up sharply at Theo, who glanced back in surprise.

"Wait. Do you actually have a way candle? Who carries a way candle?"

"It's in my bag," Ren said. "A standard-sized candle. I always have an extra."

Avy was nodding. "Finally, some good luck. One of us can port back. Bring help. We'll just have to pick a fixed location to head toward, so the rescue party can meet us halfway.…"

Theo shook his head. "It doesn't work like that."

"Oh, now you're an expert on rescue parties?" Avy threw back.

"He means the candle," Ren said. "It can take me about two days' travel. Maybe two and a half if I push it? Willard's theorem calculates the average distance for a standard candle at thirty-four thousand fifty-two paces. A wizard's focus and willpower can stretch that distance fractionally, but I'm assuming we're a lot farther from the city than two days, right? If we're all the way out here?"

Avy nodded. "I'd guess we're closer to eight or nine."

"Which means if someone used the candle, they'd just port a few days ahead of everyone else. And they'd be alone, with no one to watch their back. Not the best plan. We need to save the way candle for when we're on the right side of the mountain. When we're close enough to Kathor to have someone actually make it back to Balmerick to get help."

"What if I boost the jump?" Timmons asked. Her eyes were red from crying, but the idea of usefulness had lured her into the conversation. "I could enhance the magic for more distance."

Her words hit Ren like a strike of lightning. It was an answer to the other question Ren had been thinking about. That was the reason they'd traveled so far. Timmons had unintentionally amplified their tangled routes and distances. Ren almost blurted the realization out to the others before biting her tongue. Her friend hadn't stopped crying since they arrived. Knowing her own role in how far they'd traveled would drain what little fight she had left. But at least Ren knew the missing factor in the equation. Timmons's innate power had multiplied how far they traveled.

"If you're really strong, it might triple the distance?" Theo answered. "The person who travels would still be on this side of the mountain. That's a lot of terrain to cover."

"What's the worst that would happen?" Timmons asked. "If one of us tried to push past the limitations of the candle. Travel as far as we can."

"A big part of the function of the candle is protection," Ren answered, recalling a section she'd read in Wax and Way. "Think about it like a cocoon. Something pungent that covers up our real scent. Remember, the waxways were left behind by the dragons. Like everything else on this continent. It's how they traveled. We're just tapping into an old system. It's kind of like running water through another civilization's pipes. Most of the time it works flawlessly. But every now and again you run into whatever has grown in the dark all this time. Traveling past the limitations of the candle means exposing yourself. Trying to travel too far is the reason some wizards don't come back."

She glanced around and realized that wasn't the most positive framing. She probably could have just said It won't work and left it at that. Most of the faces around the circle had fallen. Only Avy still wore a determined expression.

"My grandfather was full Tusk. I never met him, but he was a true pioneer. Never stopped traveling. Always going on exploration treks. My father—he learned some pioneering from him. And he taught some of that to me and Pree. I know enough to get us through terrain like this. The mountain passes…" He trailed off, eyeing those distant peaks. "I'm not going to lie. They'll be a lot harder than this. But if we all stay together? We can survive them."

Theo scowled. "Good pioneers die in those passes all the time."

"Alone," Avy threw back. "Testing their own physical limits. Most of them don't use any magic because they're survivalists. We're not trying to set records or anything. We're just trying to get back to Kathor alive."

Ren saw that it was going to fall to her to keep the two of them away from each other's throats. "Let's focus on right here, right now. We can't use the way candle until we get back on the other side of the mountain. So how do we survive, Avy? What's the first step?"

He nodded, thinking. "Find a heading. Establish our landmarks. Keep moving."

Those simple tasks brought a renewed focus to the group. Avy picked out the pass he thought had the lowest elevation, and they all memorized the landmarks they'd need to follow to get there. Having a firm plan—and a little sun shining in from the west—was almost enough to buoy their spirits. Until the conversation returned to the shadowed wood and the body they'd left behind. "We should go back," Theo said. "We need to get Clyde."

Ren was already mentally preparing an argument against bringing Clyde with them. Their new situation was dangerous on a number of levels. There were far more deadly predators in the Dires. This had once been a hunting ground for dragons. Only the most dangerous creatures had survived them and now flourished in their absence. It would be difficult to walk through territory like this with a 170-pound piece of bait in tow.

The other danger was in running out of magic. Their vessels stored only so many ockleys. Refreshing a levitation spell every few hours would have a cost. And the odds of successfully carrying a corpse through the mountain passes were slim. She'd have to frame the suggestion to make it sound like the obvious course, because she knew bringing Clyde was the kind of mistake that might get them killed. Better to give him a grave out here and be done with it.

"We'll have to do a resource check before we get moving," Ren suggested as they descended into the growing shadows. "Go through our satchels. Carry only what we need. It'll be good to know how much food we have. Calculate our combined magic, too."

Everyone stiffened at the last comment. She saw the way Theo chewed on his lip. It wasn't exactly taboo, but much like politics, magical accommodations weren't discussed at the dinner table. Everyone knew the wealthier houses received the largest magical allowances. It was supposedly a meritocracy. The more your businesses benefited the city—or the more citizens you employed—the larger your magical allocation. Which meant that families like Ren's received the lowest stipends. She knew the entire system was designed to maintain the established hierarchy, especially since the public wasn't actually allowed to know how much each of the houses received each month.

When the silence stretched on, Timmons finally chimed in. "I've got some textbooks I'd gladly leave behind."

This had always been her way of dealing with stress. Dry humor could help her weather any storm. Ren offered a grateful nod. They'd survived junior and senior year by acting as each other's armor. Offering their strength whenever the other felt too weak to go on. Timmons picked up on Ren's signal and kept trying to lighten the mood.

"Quentin's The Wizard and the Kingdom is practically begging to be abandoned in a forest, never to be read again. The first eighty pages are just him slobbering over Malfa's charmwork."

"Oh. I liked that one," Ren replied.

"You like them all, dear."

Avy glanced back. "We'll want to keep pages for tinder, but all the bindings can go. Did anyone else pack any food? I'm pretty sure I—"

Theo's voice cut through their discussion.

"Where's Clyde?"

They'd reached the hollow where his body had been covered. Everyone saw that Theo's cardigan had been thrown aside. There were dark streaks, disturbed branches. The forest glade was empty now, though. No one spoke because no one knew what to say.

Clyde's body was gone.