Interlude
Autumn, three years ago. Claviska Cliffs.
“You turn your corners too sharply and it startles your horse,” Calix says calmly.
I pat my mare and take the lead along the misted path. Cliff on one side, nothing but drop on the other. “She’s used to pulling carts, not racing. You had the advantage.”
The earth jerks.
A hard jolt becomes violent tremors. “Cael, move!” Calix flings out a hand, as if a shield will spring to life—nothing. Tournament suppression still blocks him. Hooves scramble; rocks skitter and smash; a boulder explodes near his mount. My mare spooks. A whistle, a blur, pain at my temple—
Dark.
I swim up through ache to painted light. A domed ceiling. Wall murals glowing with fire. A luminarium.
“Maskios?” I rasp.
“You were knocked out,” Calix says without turning. “The path was blocked. We had to ride into the mountains.”
“We’re in the mountains?”
“I thought we could take the trail down the other side. But now that we have to camp, we may as well leave the way we came. Once my meridians reopen tomorrow, I’ll clear the road.”
“We’re stuck here for the night?”
“Will that be a problem? Will Akilah be searching for you?”
“I told her to go home. She might only start panicking in the morning.”
“Then she won’t panic for long.”
“What about me?” I rub my temple. “Should I be panicking?”
Calix glances back. “Would you? So I might see what that looks like?”
“Your meridians are still intact,” he murmurs. “Heal yourself.”
Relief floods when I guide a spell into my skull; the pain loosens.
I spring from the makeshift bed he built and drop beside him at the fire.
Before he can set down his jar of liquor, I swipe it, sniff theatrically, and take a gulp.
“I’ve never tried alcohol before.” Another mouthful. “Quite sweet.”
He yanks it back. “You’ll knock yourself out again.”
“You’re not secretly thrilled? You won’t have to deal with me for the rest of the night.”
Warmth and adrenaline make my tongue loose; the air cools, and I edge closer. When my shoulder bumps his, he hisses.
Pain pools around us. I look at his lap. “You’re hurt. Let me.”
He bats my hands away, shifting just out of reach. “It’s nothing,” he mutters. “Just a few rocks. I’m fine.”
“This again? You won’t let me heal you because I’m par-linea? That’s ridiculous.” I roll up my sleeves. “If I’d known you were suffering, I would’ve healed you first.”
I summon a spell. My hair lifts; magic fizzles. I try again. More fizz.
“I . . . I can’t.” Horror blooms. “It must be the liquor!”
Calix laughs—actually laughs—and smooths my hair with his palm. I go still at the touch. Our eyes catch; his hand drops. I stare into the flames.
“So,” I say, throat tight, “have you practiced archery for a long time?”
“Since I could lift a bow.”
“Even though you can use magic?”
“Sometimes magic isn’t an option. We need other ways to survive. To fight.”
“Even to heal?” I frown at my hands.
“What if this happens again?” he says. “When your magic fails?”
“I’d rather never drink again!”
Silence, easy and strange. Smoke twines into the dome.
“I desperately want to be a vitalian. It’s my dream.”
“Your only dream?”
“If I ever stray from it, I hope someone will boldly plonk me back on the right path.” I tip my head, watching smoke thread into the starry oculus. “I think that might be true love.”
“Helping one stay on the right path?”
“No.” I turn to him. “Helping one another stay on the path.”
Something shifts. Night air, leftover fear, firelight softening sharp edges. We talk until yawns steal the words. We curl near the banked coals and sleep takes us.
Deep.
Dreamless.
I wake to quiet.
Cold ash. My breath, the only fog. No hoof-scuff, no rustle, no wintergreen. Maybe he went to forage.
I wait.
I pace.
I call his name.
I search the rocky ledges.
I wait some more.
He doesn’t come back.
Calix is gone.
A laugh sputters when I stub my toe on the dead fire. Of course. What was I thinking? That one night would mean something? That we were, what, friends?
I start down the mountain. No note. No goodbye. Not even a horse left behind.
Mist curls off the path as I march, each step stamping its own vow.
Calix Maskios Solin—you. You just wait.