9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
M uch to her relief, the sun rose, even over the Riverlands, as things returned to normal.
The carriage rocked back and forth along the rough dirt road that ran across the boggy terrain. A sharp wind blew in from the approaching sea and whistled through the coach’s cracks. The Neshuin Coast and the capital were close.
Cold, tedious, and with everything jostling about, Imani couldn’t do much but stare out the window. Indeed, she could barely think.
At least they planned to give her a traveling companion at their final stop in the Moorlands, where the sprite pixies lived. Something inside Imani hoped maybe she might be friendly with this person.
But a pang of anxiety stirred her gut, remembering Ara’s words. Meira had been correct; feeding would be more complicated for Imani here. And lately, with her shadow magic, she’d been having a more challenging time with control. The shadows had a mind of their own.
In the past three days, their company had traveled swiftly through all the territories and picked up each of the breeds living there. Imani was homesick for the tall trees and roaring tributaries of the Riverlands, and she could admit she was nervous about living in Stralas. It was the opposite of her provincial town.
Stralas and the Neshuin Sea belonged to the Crown. All breeds were welcome to live and work there. A bustling metropolis, it offered excitement Imani had never experienced. She might even see some Norn elves there.
Imani knew she should be trying to make a friend or two among the group of apprentices for feeding, but she kept to herself. Half would die taking the assessments, anyway, perhaps more.
Still, she needed to find some allies.
Yesterday, they had passed by her home territory and didn’t stop. Despite many elves possessing powerful magic, none of her kind was with them. It disappointed her more than she wanted to admit. The Crown would never travel into the Draswood without an invitation, let alone barge in and demand Norn witches.
They weren’t fools.
She spotted the edge of the forest from the carriage’s window. Dark inside, the Draswoods towered to the sky and blanketed the flora and fauna underneath in their shade. She only caught one look before they moved on.
Around midday, she sensed Stralas’s magic long before she could see it, like a collective buzzing over her skin. The wards protecting the city stood far outside the perimeter.
Imani kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, heart hammering in anticipation. Finally, shadowed outlines of the great walls came into focus as they made their way up the craggy coast. Structures rose on the peninsula in the distance, too. As the massive capital of the Essenheim Kingdom grew more prominent, their company hushed.
An hour later, they stopped at a crossroads. They were still in the Moorlands, and while Imani had been keen to see the cityscape from this view, a sense of unease hung in the air. Even she could tell this was a different route into the city.
Their caravan halted entirely, and she whipped her head out the door to catch a glimpse.
Immediately, the wind, which smelled like the sea, ruffled her cloak and hair, reminding her of Master Grey.
Soldiers shouted indiscriminate orders down the line, calling them back into the carriages. A scuffle caused Imani to sit up straighter. She creaked open her carriage door, and more people shouted. Something was happening outside.
She cast a quick invisibility illusion over her body, hopped down, and scurried to hide behind a tree near the dirt road.
The breeze spun through the cotton grass in a field ahead, tousling the blue hair of a diminutive woman pointing her finger at the soldiers. Delicate, translucent, moth-shaped wings snapped out and fluttered with surprising force.
Imani’s brows shot up.
While Norn elves only seemed elusive, pixies were truly rare. Only a small number remained after their populations had been decimated years ago by several Fabric events, not to mention those taken captive by the more ruthless covens for their dust. Like the Norn elves, people rarely spotted trow or sprite pixies in their larger forms outside the safety of their home territories of the Plainslands and Moorlands.
Imani wanted to get her hands on some pixie dust of any variety, one of the most coveted magic items. According to rumors from Fen’s bed, some versions of Niflheim pixie dust could raise the dead, but the same dust also made pixies powerful and dangerous.
Blue hair shining, the fierce sprite pixie arched her wand over her head and summoned a shield of defensive magic. An invisible wall shimmered into existence, ensconcing the pixie.
A pang of jealousy hit her. Defensive magic was invaluable in physical combat. It produced all sorts of shields and wards to keep a person safe from other witches’ magic or even push the same magic back at the witch, hurting themselves with their own spell.
The ground shook as the pixie cracked a deep hole using another powerful spell—terrestrial magic—which bent water, dirt, plants, and even the weather to a witch’s will. One soldier fell inside, which Imani immensely enjoyed—it served them right for treating all the potential master witches on this trip like prisoners. Recently, Imani had seen many roughed up for not willingly following the new laws.
Soldiers tried to create a perimeter around this tiny beast, but the pixie roared and cut two more down, killing them.
Whoever she was, Imani immediately thought this witch would be worth keeping tabs on.
A dozen soldiers surrounded the sprite pixie now. Imani flinched as another blast sent more dirt flying.
The pixie flung enchantments and terrestrial and defensive magic at anyone who came close. Indeed, she possessed enough magic to take out at least five men alone and was adept at wielding it.
All delight faded from Imani’s face when Master Grey approached in the periphery. Everyone’s eyes tracked him staring down the formidable witch.
Shrugging his cloak off his broad shoulders, he appeared calm and amused. Grey was handsome, whatever his breed, and he was likely aware of this fact. But he looked less put together today, and with a longer beard and windswept hair, traveling showed on him.
As he approached the pixie, his dark, crimson master witch robes swirled around him from the breeze she’d created. Then, ten feet away, Grey stopped.
The soldiers scattered behind him like children hiding in their mother’s skirts. His lips pulled into a slight grin, and he pointed his wand at the pixie. Dull clouds above swirled while the wind picked up. He also possessed terrestrial magic, but he was a master, and this pixie was not.
“We must do our part for this kingdom, including you, pix. So, you’re coming with us. One way is painful; the other is easy. I don’t want to hurt you, little one.”
Imani glared at him for his demeaning words, having been called the same many times. But the female smiled unforgivingly, staring the master dead in the eye.
“Call me little again”—her voice boomed loudly—“and I’ll shove my wand so far up your ass you’ll be shitting your snide attitude out of your nostrils for months.”
With another snap of her wand, the ground wrenched open further, crumbling toward Master Grey. In perfect control, she stopped the crack mere inches from dropping him to his death and laughed.
Oh, Imani liked her.
To his credit, Master Grey didn’t even flinch. Instead, a savage, unkind grin darkened his face.
Thunder rumbled in the clouds above, answering the master. A vertical swipe with his wand called rain and a lightning bolt down from the sky, blasting through the pixie’s barrier ward. Lightning was terrestrial magic and impossible for anyone but a master to wield.
A crackling current filled the air. The pixie’s blood-chilling scream rattled Imani’s chest.
Dust rose and swirled in response to the impact. When it cleared, the pixie fell onto her back, struggling against invisible ropes. No match for a lightning strike, she snarled and snapped her teeth, practically feral, while Master Grey watched on.
A longing wrapped around Imani’s heart after witnessing the command of magic they both possessed. How far behind would she be from the other apprentices?
Master Grey approached slowly and inclined his head, as if debating whether to squish a bug he’d captured. With a flick of his hand, the soldiers surrounded her again and struck.
Beating the pixie wasn’t fair, but they delivered it enthusiastically, anyway. Eventually, they carried her away.
Invisible, Imani retreated, as well. Heat crept down her spine, and she froze.
Cocking his head to the side, Master Grey narrowed his eyes in her direction. Despite the illusion spell over her body, he sensed something from her. She held her breath.
He stared for far longer than she was comfortable with before eventually striding away.
Frigid air blasted Imani, and her head snapped to the right as someone flung the coach door open. She’d only returned moments before and blinked, gaping at her new companion.
Crawling into the seat opposite Imani, the pixie sat back and sighed loudly.
Imani stared unabashed, overcome with the curiosity at seeing her first pixie. Although her true form was measured in inches, not feet, this one appeared in her larger body today, which was not much bigger than a Norn. With the typical blue hair of a pixie cut blunt around her chin, frazzled by the wind and lightning, her features were severe but pretty.
Almond-shaped eyes with a violet hue and sharp cunningness glanced around at her surroundings. “So, this is what it’s like to be in a gilded cage, marching to your death,” she muttered, shifting her weight and hugging her cloak tighter. A deep gash on her cheek gleamed bright red.
Based on how the pixie carefully sat back against the plush seat, Imani guessed she had bruises and scrapes on her back, too. She should offer to help her. It would be kind, something Meira would do.
“I don’t have healing magic,” Imani said, studying her more, “but if you let me, I could perform a numbing enchantment.”
Suspicion swept over the pixie’s face. “I know better than to touch one of your kind,” she said, raking her gaze over Imani’s body from top to bottom. “Besides, when they look at me, I want them to remember not everyone is going quietly to their execution.”
The pixie was wrong about the touching. All Imani had to do was stare into her eyes, but she didn’t correct her.
Silence fell for several minutes. The pixie’s eyes locked onto her, observing.
In Imani’s opinion, unlike others in their company, the pixie wouldn’t have to worry about surviving the assessments. Imani pressed her mouth into a thin line, unsure what to make of her.
“Let me guess, you’ve never seen a Norn elf before?” Imani asked, desperate for the staring to stop.
“No, I’ve seen a few. Even High-Norn females, if you can believe it.” The pixie settled her gaze out the window. “I’m having a hard time believing they braved the Draswood to retrieve one creature like you. Even if you are a potential master witch.”
Imani bristled. “I’m not a creature easily retrieved, I promise you.”
“Let me see your markings then.” It wasn’t a demanding or sneering tone but a challenge.
Swallowing hard, Imani regarded her for a moment. Witches kept their brands close to their chests. The impolite request made her nervous.
Before she could change her mind, Imani loosed the glamour and revealed a bit more of her true form. While she kept her disfigurements hidden and a light illusion on her soul draw, Imani imagined her features sharpening, her eyes widening, the blue of her irises brightening, and her skin glowing.
Shoving her sleeves up, Imani thrust her arms forward. The markings sparkled even in the dim light, showing her sigil and legal Essenheim brands. The rest remained perfectly undetectable, as far as Imani knew. She waited to see if the pixie could sense them.
Mumbling, the pixie was careful not to touch. She took her time examining them all then looked back up. “Yes, retrieving you against your will might be harder than expected.” She narrowed her eyes at Imani. “Without healing magic, you’re pristine. Not a scratch on you. I don’t believe for a second the Norn let a young, unmated female go without a fight, especially a high-bred one. But, even if they did, let’s be honest—your kind never leaves the Draswood without your special magic cunt so heavily glamoured no one spares you a glance. Yet, here you sit, in all your High-Norn glory with merely an illusion on.”
“It seems some of us do.”
In truth, parts of Imani were heavily glamoured, but not with the magic most people expected. Yet her companion still didn’t sense any of it, which meant her flesh magic illusion spell was more powerful than the pixie witch.
The pixie clearly didn’t think it was possible. Good . Thank the saints for flesh magic.
Sitting back with a heavy sigh, the pixie stared at Imani. “So, how did you come to be here?”
“I haven’t lived in the Draswood since I was a child. I’m from the Riverlands.”
“You lived with the naiads? That’s … that’s strange.” The pixie paused and gave Imani a once-over. “You come from excellent breeding. Not only are you physically perfect, with a powerful soul draw, but you have a wandlore brand. Why did you leave the Draswood?”
“My family died. My naiad grandmother raised me.”
Another pause.
“You’re a strange elf witch, and there’s nothing naiad about you.”
Despite the innocent comment, Imani’s stomach twisted into knots. The pixie was bright, and although she hadn’t figured her out, she sensed Imani was hiding something. Like Master Grey, how many people in the capital would perceive the same? Although being a High-Norn elf would draw some attention, she would be in trouble if she couldn’t stay somewhat inconspicuous.
Imani averted her eyes from the window before replying. “I’m nothing special. I have more nymph in me from my grandmother than you would think.” Lies, but all valid for her sister. “The soul draw is affecting you when I let my glamour loose. Per your request, by the way,” Imani added.
“Possibly. Fucking elves.” She rolled her eyes. “People wouldn’t love you half as much without your soul draw.”
“I certainly hope someone who talks like you has the markings to match the attitude,” Imani said snidely.
“I do.” The pixie tugged back her sleeves and revealed seven markings and a circle around her blue moth sigil. Imani sensed an illusion over the brands. The pixie was hiding something—or someone.