19. Arrick

Chapter nineteen

Arrick

S he looked so terrified. Her hands reached for me. She fucking reached out for me. She needed my help, and I couldn't save her.

I run my fingers repeatedly through my hair and down my face. Worry spreads through my soul like poison. A tamped dirt ring forms a path where I pace back and forth. My composure threatens to break under each crush of my foot on the clay ground.

Still pacing, I scratch at my skin and pull at my clothes. It feels like the open space of the night is crushing me under its expanse. All that space; all the places she could be.

All the places .

I pause and take that in for a moment. My hand runs over the dappled runes that band around my torso. The spell. The spell with enough power that it can call me to any other Vaki.

The rune raised under my touch is pulsing with the beat of my heart, as if it's asking to be used. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.

There is only one logical place those harpies could have taken her. If I call myself to the Stormlands, it won't take me directly to her, but it's a start. The rune under my fingertips heats, as if it can read my thoughts.

If I do this, I'm giving up on the wisps. I'm forfeiting my calling and protection of the woods to seek out and save Yera.

My pacing begins again. The implications of what I'm considering could have ripple effects that cost others their lives. More people can and will fall through the veil.

My rune pules and beats in time with my heart, harder now. Fury blooms in my thoughts. It takes over, spreading in my bloodstream like an ink stain. I have to get her back.

There is also an aching suspicion in my mind that this is all somehow connected. The spells are thundering in my head as if they agree with the direction my thoughts are taking. As if they want Yera back as intensely as I do. The things those horrid creatures could do to her boils my blood.

I close my eyes, focusing on the rich black behind my lids. Taking in that color, I work it around in my thoughts, pulling out blues and greens when they appear. Magic beats a steady hymn in my body. Rich emerald churns in my vision, mixing with gray and white. My chest hammers, and I let myself go to the magic.

Everything around is both calm and thunderous, like the forest after a snowfall, but also as turbulent as a ship navigating a hurricane. The duality of my transition shakes my stomach, and I fear I will be sick.

My eyes are still closed, focused on my point of contact, but unusual lights and colors flicker behind my closed lids. I am everywhere and nowhere. Floating in the expanse of space and time, yet grounded to the forest floor.

Green and stormy gray bleeds into my sight as the space around me settles, and my feet touch the soft, spongy ground.

I open my eyes slowly. Everything is blurry at first and then focuses as I regain a sense of composure.

The afternoon sky is gray, and white pillowy clouds roll through, flanked by dark thunderheads. Small drops of water fall while cool mists hover in a cloudy patchwork throughout the forest.

The air is chill and humid. I imagine it rains here every day. I squish my boot back into the waterlogged soil, scanning.

Brown velvet horns adorned with lichen and moss bounce in and out of my sightline and creep toward me. He is moving through the thick, saturated underbrush like a predator. We appear similar in some ways, except he has long stag horns, and his skin is in different shades of gray, like marble. Where my eyes are dark, inky pools of black, his are entirely moss green from the sclera to the irises.

We stand about the same height, horn height excluded, and he meets my stare head-on, assessing.

"You called," he says. The voice in my head is low and grave. His eyes still scan me expertly.

"I did. I'm looking for someone. Harpies took her somewhere."

He looks at me, confused for a moment and slightly taken aback. "harpies don't take for themselves. They live a quiet life unless commanded otherwise," he says very matter-of-fact and then continues to look me up and down .

"Well, they took someone I care for. They took her right out of my arms. So I'm here to get her back."

I take a deep breath and decide it is no use lying to him. Maybe if I show him exactly what I've lost, he would consider helping.

My mind opens and searches for his. Tendrils move in that magical space, that space connecting all creatures of magic. I knock at the door to his mind, not just the simple parts that control conversations, but the deep ones, the places we hide from everyone else except a precious few. I hold a vision of Yera up to the onyx door like a peace offering. He understands my intent and lets the door open just a crack.

When he opens, I send him my best memories of Yera, what she means to me, and how connected we've become. His eyes dart back and forth while my projection invades his headspace. He looks overwhelmed before a small tear falls from his left earthen-green eye. He looks back up at me, stunned.

"You have someone you love?" His words come out desperate, and I know why. Vaki aren't meant to love; we are supposed to put our entire selves into protection and preservation. We are never to put ourselves or our needs before the needs of our duty, but here I am. Not only am I here, but my magic begged me to come. It throbbed and heated my skin until I loosed it. That has to mean something.

I straighten as he takes me in, unsure if he will help me or scold me for my actions.

"What's your name, Vaki?" the Stormland guardian asks, my visions still circling in his mind.

"Arrick, my friend. What is yours?"

"Kalevi, and I will help you find her." He looks slightly disappointed or ashamed. I cannot distinguish which emotion is ruling him. "I'll be able to feel the harpies when they reach the Stormlands, but I think we should start moving toward the Cliff Palace before I get their exact location."

"Why the Cliff Palace?" I ask, wondering where this is going.

"It's where Echidna is. She has been using the harpies for quite some time. I can sense their discomfort at the arrangement every time they fly past. Something is happening in this place. I can feel my control slipping as well. If there are answers, they'll be there.

"How far away is it?" I hold my breath.

"About five days' walk from here. If the weather holds, we can do it four."

Fuck Not the answer I wanted. The sheer number of things that can occur in five days leaves me stone-faced with worry.

He notices my reaction. "Listen, they would have killed her if they wanted her dead." He places a hand on my shoulder. "I'm guessing it's you they want. And taking her was the best way they could get you there."

"That never occurred to me, but it makes sense. They couldn't take me because my power works as long as I can make contact." The picture becomes more apparent the deeper I examine it. She needs to be alive, or they can't get to me. Despite their nefarious nature, at least she will be safe temporarily. "Can't we port there?"

That indistinguishable look crosses his face again, and he hangs his head, stag horns bowed. "I can't." Now I know the source of his anguish. "For about a week now, I've been blocked from those spells," he says. "I call and call, but the runes never move. It's like the spells were taken back, like the forest is slowly deeming me unworthy and taking its magic back." He looks so lost and confused.

"You're right; something is going on. The forest's displeasure wouldn't diminish your magic. It would just be gone one day." I pause, resigning myself to the task at hand. "We will walk, and not only will I get my Yera back, but we're also getting your powers back." He nods at that, determination raking over his features.

"Let's go."