Malin – Portals #2
“I am not sure, but I know it is important,” Therin murmured. He wrung his hands, his brow furrowing deeply as he glanced between his wife and her niece. Malin offered him a silent, pleading look. He finally sighed. “Are you sure you want to go into the Hold? You are both magical. Correct?”
The sharp, sidelong look he gave her made the danger incredibly clear. Malin nodded anyway. “Yes. We both have magic. It is important enough. I have got to try.”
Bratha reached out and patted her knee gently, completely blind to the suffocating tension passing between her husband and her niece.
“You are so brave. You are truly just like your mother.” She offered a bright, reassuring smile.
“Having magic makes getting inside much easier. Otherwise, you would have to go through the slave entrance.”
The nonchalant delivery hit Malin like a physical blow. The horrific image of the iron cages out on the street flashed behind her eyes, instantly turning her blood to ice.
A dozen furious questions rose in her throat, but she forced herself to swallow them.
Demanding to know how they could tolerate such barbarism could easily shatter this fragile alliance.
Her mother’s life depended entirely on Therin’s help, and she did not dare jeopardize her only path into the Hold.
Maybe after she knew them better.
“We will leave first thing in the morning, then,” Therin said, drawing her back to the present. “I cannot promise how things will go when we get there.” His jaw worked in heavy thought as the stern, serious scowl returned to his face.
“This works wonderfully,” Bratha beamed. “I will have plenty of time to catch up, and I can make a meal for us.” Her genuine enthusiasm warmed Malin’s heart, and despite Therin’s obvious dread, his agreement gave her a solid path forward.
Desperate to run the terrifying plan past a tactical mind, Malin excused herself to the main office area. She found Jacien sitting by Marli’s desk, actively flirting with the secretary, who was staring at the Elf with massive, smitten eyes.
She lowered her voice, seeking the grounding reality of his combat experience.
“I guess I should have gotten your input first. I do not know this area well enough to say whether this is a good idea. Is there an issue with going into the Hold with Bratha’s husband?
I am hoping you can educate me on any glaring issues I am not aware of. ”
“Other than the fact that we will literally be alone in enemy territory and inside one of the most fortified buildings in all of Mordovia?” Jacien let out a low laugh.
“What could be the issue with that plan? Sounds like a bit of entertainment to me. It might not be very protective of me to bring you in, but it certainly sounds like fun. I can always portal us out if there are problems. Just stay with me.”
“Since you put it like that. Yeah. It sounds like a great plan… It’s also the only one we have. My mother put me on this path. She must have known something like this would happen.”
The itch to reach out to Will and tell him her plan died before she could act on it. He would hate this plan and try to stop her. His emotions were swirling in an eddy of worry, anticipation, and frustration. She hoped things were going well for them.
The sheets twisted around Malin’s legs like vines as she rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time. She had checked Will’s location, still the same distance away. Will’s emotions felt anxious, so they must not have left for the heist yet.
What were their plans? They really should know about her plans, but her fear that they would try to stop her kept her from reaching out.
Lying in bed with the amulet on, the silence inside her felt like a hollow ache beneath her ribs where the familiar hum of her magic should be.
Her thoughts raced between guilt over Jace barely squeezing onto the threadbare couch and haunting images of the gaunt faces peering through rusted cage bars in that alley.
Staring out the window at the snow falling, she worried that they might still be out there in this weather.
She needed to make sure, or she would never sleep.
She slipped into her clothes and padded barefoot across creaking floorboards to the living room, carrying her shoes.
The couch sat empty. The blanket had been folded neatly and placed in the middle.
Room by room, she searched, each one darker and colder than the last, until she reached the front door unlocked.
Jacien had left.
Perhaps he left for the tavern. Elves required only four hours of sleep. Perhaps he got bored. Putting her boots on, she stepped out, closing the door behind her.
Outside, crystalline snowflakes drifted down like shattered stars, catching the faint amber glow of distant lanterns.
Her breath clouded before her face in ghostly plumes as she trudged through ankle-deep snow that crunched beneath each step.
Her footprints filled almost as quickly as she made them, erased by the relentless white cascade.
The wind sliced at her exposed cheeks with invisible blades, making her eyes water as she headed toward the alley where the hollow-eyed prisoners languished earlier, their gaunt faces haunting her thoughts.
She didn’t recall it feeling so bitterly cold yesterday. This was the kind of cold that seeped through layers and settled in bones.
Something brushed against her shoulder. It was a feather-light touch barely perceptible through her cloak. Instinctively, she whirled, thrusting her hand forward to channel magic, fingers splayed and tensed for the familiar rush of power.
Nothing happened.
Her magic was gone.
The amulet hung heavily against her chest. She quickly raised her hands to lift it off her, fingers fumbling with the chain, then put it in her pocket.
The instant the stone left her skin, her magic roared to life.
Before she could summon her flame, the dark, hungry pull of her siphon magic violently lunged toward the prisoners’ fragile life forces.
Malin gasped, falling to one knee as she clamped down on her own mind with brutal force, fighting to cage the predator so she could reach her fire.
Once her focus had it under control, she opened her eyes to find a smiling face staring down at her.
“Jacien. What are you doing here?”
He stood with snowflakes caught in his long lashes, and that familiar crooked smile warming his face despite the cold. His gloved hands rose in mock surrender. His dark cloak was dusted with diamonds of ice that sparkled in the dim light.
“Did you have the same plan I did?” Jace asked, his voice a warm contrast to the frigid air.
“Going to the bar and having a drink? No. That wasn’t my plan,” she replied, her tone sharp as the night air.
“Ly’ra. I thought I earned more than that from you.” He shook his head, turning away. “Freeing those people in the alley,” he said with a sigh.
Malin’s eyes widened as understanding filled her.
“I’m sorry. Yes. That is why I’m here. Why didn’t you wake me then?”
He shrugged and turned toward the alley. “You and the baby needed sleep.”
Sure enough, five emaciated figures huddled together for warmth with one threadbare blanket among them. They were locked in a rusted iron cage that reeked of desperation and unwashed bodies. Their eyes, sunken and fearful, followed Malin and Jacien’s every move.
The pair scanned the perimeter for guards or surveillance technology.
Finding nothing, they pulled their hoods lower, obscuring their features in shadow.
Malin’s fingers brushed the pocket where she had stashed her amulet, confirming it was safely away from her skin and refocusing her thoughts to ensure her siphon magic was completely under control.
With the stealth of night predators, they approached the cage door.
The prisoners stirred, their chains rattling like winter branches in a storm.
A man opened his cracked lips to cry out, but Jacien pressed a finger to his own mouth.
His silver eyes conveyed both a stern warning and a silent promise of freedom.
Jacien knelt before the heavy iron lock, sliding slender metal tools from his sleeve. He fumbled clumsily with the delicate picked through his thick winter gloves. Malin watched him struggle for three impatient heartbeats before leaning down to shove his hands out of the way.
“How was I to know you could pick a lock?” he whispered indignantly, throwing his hands up.
“I don’t plan to pick it,” she replied, her palms already beginning to warm. She turned her attention to the prisoners. “Everyone. Look away.”
She summoned her hottest white flame. The brilliant, controlled inferno sliced through the lock and melted the cage’s hinges, leaving edges glowing red-hot in the darkness. The acrid smell of scorched metal filled the air.