Malin – Fellspire Hold
Malin
Fellspire Hold
The world reformed around Malin in a rush of cold, stale air. For half a heartbeat, her guts tangled, then she landed, knees flexed, but upright. Jacien, for all his bravado, folded in half and retched onto the bare stone.
Malin grinned. “I guess I should have warned you after all. I figured since you were a portaller, you would have already been through a portal like this one.”
“They aren’t all the same. That watery mire was horrible. Not nearly as elegant as the Elven ones,” Jacien spat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and scowled. “I had a feeling it would happen,” he managed. “No one said the transition would feel like swallowing a bucket full of piss.”
Looking around, the room was filled with so many people and portals opening and closing all around them; she didn’t know where to look.
Therin, already steady, dusted off his coat, then looked around. “We need to register you,” he said, but his eyes were on a raised desk near the exit of the enormous chamber.
She didn’t know what she expected, but this wasn’t it. The Mellyrn portal room was small, and the portaller only opened one when needed. The Fellspire Hold’s portal room was like a train station in Media with people everywhere, going about their day.
Grand black arches ran the length of the space, each one glowing with a different, faintly sickening light.
All of the portals throbbed with the same gelatinous, opaque haze.
The floor was cut into rings, each with its own cadre of mages: some working, some dozing, some so still they looked dead.
The noise was a constant, low rumble punctuated by sharp cracks as gates opened and closed.
Locking her knees to steady her lingering vertigo, Malin immediately swept the room for danger.
Her gaze landed on a few guards stationed near the large doorway.
Dressed in matching drab gray uniforms, they shifted their weight and stared blankly ahead, looking entirely unbothered by the new arrivals.
Therin didn’t wait for her to acclimate. He headed straight for a main desk positioned near the gates, frantically gesturing for Malin and Jacien to keep up.
“Registration won’t take long,” Therin said, his voice tight.
The petite woman on the raised platform did not look pleased when they approached. “Therin. You only scheduled one person for this trip. You know you’re supposed to register guests ahead of time. I’ve got several forms to fill out now because of you.”
“I apologize, Cathia. It was a last-minute addition for urgent business with Darik,” Therin stammered, offering a placating smile. “They can just register now, can’t they?”
Cathia scowled but finally sighed. “Yes. You owe me though. I want one of your wife’s cakes on your next trip.” Once Therin agreed, she tucked a clipboard under one arm and extended a long testing needle, waving for them to come forward.
Malin stared at the sharp point and completely locked up. Her wild magic was entirely unpredictable. If this needle tested for her specific abilities, it could ruin everything. She stiffened, pulling her hand close to her chest.
Therin noticed her sudden, rigid posture and quickly intervened. “It is only a small prick,” he told the official with a forced, polite laugh. “My niece is terribly squeamish around blood.”
Considering she was a trained doctor, the excuse was almost comical, but Malin was immensely grateful for her uncle’s quick wit.
She offered a weak smile and extended her hand.
Cathia pricked the tip of her finger. The needle immediately flared with a brilliant white light before fading back to dull metal.
“You have powerful magic. Impressive,” Cathia noted, poising her pen over the clipboard. “Name?”
“Malin Hawkson,” she stated clearly, deciding that honoring her married name was the safest, most unassuming option.
“Next.”
Jacien stepped forward.
“Name?” she asked, holding out the needle.
“Jacien Livadais.” He extended his hand. His movement caused his cloak to open for just a moment, revealing a flash of metal.
Malin was not sure Cathia noticed their gear until the official’s voice hardened. “Weapons are not allowed by visitors past the gates.”
Closing the distance, Jacien trailed a single finger down the woman’s extended arm and kept his hand on her. “These weapons have been approved,” he said, his voice dropping into a smooth, melodic cadence. Malin blinked as a sudden flare of gold ignited within his silver eyes.
Cathia froze. Her gaze clouded over. “That is right. They are approved.”
“Good girl,” Jacien purred.
A heavy flush of pink instantly bloomed across Cathia’s face. She fumbled to prick his finger, gasping when the testing needle glowed a bright, undeniable blue.
“You... You are fully Elven.” Licking her lips, the official leaned as close as the raised platform permitted. She stared at him, utterly spellbound. “You may proceed. You know. If you aren’t busy later... No. Sorry. I can’t. You… You have a nice visit.”
Jacien leaned in even closer, prompting the flustered woman to suck in her bottom lip. “Thank you, Ly’ra. You want to let those nice people over there know we are good to pass. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course,” she breathed, smiling down at him as he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss her inner wrist. Her whole body shuddered, and she looked like her legs would no longer hold her.
When he finally pulled his hand away, the spell visibly broke. Cathia’s jaw slackened. The woman’s eyelids fluttered wildly before she blinked rapidly and snapped back to attention. Shaking off the daze, Cathia motioned to the guards at the gate.
“They are approved,” she announced to them, with a hint of breathlessness.
Waiting until they were safely past the gates, Malin finally released her held breath and closed the distance between herself and Jacien. “What did you do to her?” she hissed. “There is no way you are that charming. Was that your power?”
Flashing a brilliantly arrogant smile, Jacien casually adjusted his cuffs. “Now, why would I need to use magic when I have this winning personality?”
“Well… Nice trick,” she whispered, genuinely impressed.
Shrugging one shoulder, he gave her his signature wink. “It’s all in the delivery. I told you I’m gifted.”
All traces of amusement instantly vanished from Malin’s face. She met his silver eyes with a deadly, unwavering glare. “You better never use that power on me or you’re a dead man,” she promised softly with a smile. “You could be a handy person to have around. I’d hate to kill you.”
They followed Therin toward the slight brightening at the end of the long path. Doors and dark alcoves adorned the walls of the dim, tunnel-like hallway.
Closing her eyes, Malin reached along the frayed edges of their soul-bond. She had to concentrate hard, but Will crashed into her awareness instantly, somewhere very close by, and radiating a dull, heavy weariness.
Panic flared in her chest.
Were they already starting the heist?
She had to warn him to stand down so she could steal the EMP herself. Gathering her thoughts, she shoved an urgent warning down the bond, but it went nowhere. The mental link was completely blocked. She could sense his fatigue, but she could not send him a single word.
Was it her bond, or this building? She hoped it was just the building. Things hadn’t been that bad when she left him.
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. There was nothing she could do to stop him now. Severing her end of the mental reach, Malin opened her eyes and shifted her focus to the frantic man standing right in front of her.
Malin caught the wide-eyed look on Therin’s face. His hands were a blur of nervous energy, picking and pulling at the seams of his jacket. Without a word, he hurried them to a secluded spot away from the crowds and pulled them into the shadows.
“I know you are family,” he started, his voice trembling. “This job means everything to Bratha and me... and my brother is a good man. He tells me all the time that I am too trusting. You... You aren’t going to cause trouble. Are you?”
Wringing his hands, his face pinched into a tight, desperate frown. “Please. There are so many counting on us to change these slavery laws. I should have asked...” He kept talking, the frantic words tripping over each other as his panic spiraled.
Malin reached out and squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to worry about. We don’t want trouble either. Can you tell me more about your brother as we go?”
Her reassurance finally seemed to work. Therin let out a heavy breath and started walking again.
“Thank you. Our parents died when I was still finishing my schooling. Darik was just a boy, so I did my best to look out for him. He always wanted power, but I never had his ambition. I would be perfectly happy staying in my little town with Bratha, far away from this political world, but Darik helped me to get my assignment.” As he spoke, the solid wall beside them abruptly gave way, revealing a breathtaking atrium completely open to the sky.
Malin’s footsteps faltered. She tipped her head back, utterly mesmerized by the gorgeous, impossible expanse opening before her. She had never seen anything so magnificent in her entire life. “Where are we?”
“The Hold was built within an extinct volcano.” Therin gestured toward a set of doors. “Here. We need to get to the lift. I am late for my meeting with Darik. The Upper Synod offices are on the fifty-fourth floor.”
He ushered them into a glass tube and touched his finger to a button on the wall that lit up.
With windows starting at their waists, the lift provided a terrifyingly perfect view of the circular atrium.
Three identical glass tubes lined the walls.
Looking up, Malin marveled at the sheer height of the stronghold, realizing it rivaled the tallest skyscrapers of her world.
The beauty of the sunlight pouring in was absolutely breathtaking.