Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Time ceased to flow in a meaningful way after Calya decided to forsake her life’s goal and leap into Lowe’s arms.
Perhaps that way of putting it was a touch dramatic, but she figured she’d earned a bit of melodrama. It was a short-lived wallow, pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of reinforcements.
Not long after Calya dozed off on Lowe’s shoulder, she woke to find a dozen people in the pit, Orren, her sister, and her friends from the Valley amongst them.
She was lying on the floor, Lowe’s cloak under her head like a pillow while he stood by the glass sphere, conferring with Ezzyn and Matthias.
Their eyes met. But he didn’t come over, and she didn’t call out. Orren said something, drawing Lowe’s attention away again.
“You’re awake,” Anadae said from where she sat beside Calya.
Calya pushed herself up and was promptly swept into a hug.
“Ana…dae,” Calya grumbled, but without any bite. “You made it.”
“In time to save my little sister. Actually, you did a pretty good job of that on your own, from what the others have said.”
“I had help. Your ice thing worked,” she rasped, throat dry. “Instructions need some work, though.”
Anadae produced a waterskin. “I’ll keep that in mind. As for your other question, we got here at dawn. Froley’s courier found us yesterday, but the storm slowed us down.”
Calya nodded toward the glass bubble and the two mages still trapped inside. “What is that?”
“A conduit, of a sort. And a cage,” Ezzyn said, lip curling in disdain as he joined them. “A way to forcibly collect the arcane runoff from the Valley and feed it into the poison they made.”
“You mean they really did it?” Calya slowly stood up, glancing between her sister and her partner as she leaned against the wall. “They made a wellspring. Here?”
“No,” Ezzyn said, “only a poor imitation. One these fools don’t have an inkling of how to control, at that. As it feeds the poison, the corruption grows and does generate a significant amount of power, but it takes more than it gives, and what it does produce is more volatile than useful.”
Calya looked at her sister. “Help me.”
Anadae smiled. “It’s not a real wellspring, and the magic it makes, no one really knows how to use.”
“How long will the bubble last?”
Matthias joined them. “As long as it has magic to keep it stable.”
Calya glanced at Lowe, noting how he also kept looking her way, as if reassuring himself she was okay.
Anadae noticed her sister’s split focus. Before she could follow the direction of her look, Calya hurried to ask, “You’re leaving Treen and Aylton in?”
Matthias sighed and shook his head. “No, we won’t be like them.
Your friends worked out an amendment to their healing tea that works for the poison here.
Better. The blight isn’t as concentrated as what Rhell is dealing with.
Once our team is recovered, we’ll work out a rotation until we can shut the orb down safely. ”
“You can do that?”
“If we have enough people. But once ours started to get sick, we fell behind. When Avenor’s scam to get more grovetenders over here blew up, and then Song couldn’t steal the remedy from the university, the Coalition ran out of time to trick other mages with the same ruse.
” Matthias spat on the ground. “They’d have preferred to run and let this break down. Let it get out.”
Calya watched Treen and Aylton as they floated silently within the bubble, the murky yellow mist curling around them. “So, you’ll do for them what they wouldn’t have done for you?” she said quietly.
Matthias frowned at the glass. At the people who had been colleagues only to turn oppressors.
Captors. “They went in on their own. Avenor couldn’t have forced them, not both.
He doesn’t have the strength,” he finally said, shaking his head.
“They stepped up. It doesn’t change their hand in all this, but at the end, they went in rather than let it fail. ”
“People are full of surprises when it matters,” Anadae said.
Tepid solace for those who’d had to deal with them before. Calya started to say as much, but when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a yawn.
“I’m taking you out of here,” Anadae announced.
“Not without my pet rock.” Calya nudged the leather bag with her foot. “I kind of—”
“Sentinel Lowe mentioned it,” Anadae said. “I want Eunny to look at your hand.”
Ezzyn nodded at the bag. “Leave it for now. It’s not going anywhere. I won’t destroy it,” he added, though the comment was aimed more at Anadae than Calya.
Leaning against her sister, Calya started to limp away, every muscle protesting, but Lowe stopped her. He scooped her up with a gruff, “You shouldn’t stress your… ribs.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking,” she protested. But not too much. His arms and chest were a refreshing change from the ground, even if it had been cushioned by his cloak. She’d take him over some clothes any day.
“You are,” he agreed, his step never slowing.
“As long as that’s settled.” She relaxed into his grip—only to stiffen as a firm object in her cloak pocket poked her side. She pulled her cloak up, digging in the pocket to find the small, damaged notebook she’d saved from the brazier in Brint’s office.
“Here.” She held it out to Anadae, who walked in step with them. “It’s… magey stuff. I think.”
Calya thought she heard a muffled snort, but Anadae took the notebook without comment as they exited the cave. A string of horses waited in the clearing, some saddled and others still hitched to plain carriages.
“I’ll see if we can use one of the carts,” Anadae said before walking away, leaving Calya alone with Lowe.
Carefully, he set her on her feet, then moved to take a respectful step back. Calya tightened her fist in his shirt, holding him close. His hand jumped as if to touch her cheek before he stopped himself. Instead, he settled for brushing his knuckles against her arm.
“Calya,” he murmured, face solemn. Not his usual frown, but moody in its own way.
“I—” She swallowed, emotions rising. It had to be left over from the stress, of course. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. For coming back. You didn’t have—”
“I never should’ve left.” He huffed, raked his fingers through his hair, and shook his head ruefully. “I never should’ve left you.”
“Yes, well…” Calya forced herself to release his shirt, patting it back into place. “I wasn’t very nice to you.”
His lips curved with a faint smile. “You had me all figured out from the start, too. I don’t care much for a nice woman.”
Calya preened. “I’m certainly not that.” Seeing a horse-drawn cart coming their way, she murmured, “Where does that leave us?”
Lowe’s gaze went to the mark still burned into her hand.
“We’ll revisit once I get this removed,” Calya said, turning toward the cart. “I haven’t finished enjoying my time with you.” Then she looked back over her shoulder, adding in a quieter voice, “I’ll see you at the inn?”
He inclined his head. “I promise.”
She hummed softly, gaze lingering on him for a moment before she let her sister help her into the cart.
After five glorious days of being waited on hand and foot—and having drunk what felt like a barrel’s worth of healing infusions Eunny insisted upon—Calya was a new woman.
Though her sister and friends weren’t around for much of her recovery, called away to assist in getting the false wellspring safely closed down, Froley came by often.
They delivered updates and the freshest bake of the day Roxana had whipped up.
“The mayor tried to run for it,” was delivered with a breakfast of cheese toast and apples. “Dockmaster rolled on him, and the young lieutenant found him trying to hide under the catch on a fishing boat. Threw him in with Avenor. Without a wash.”
Spiced, fruit-stuffed hand pies accompanied, “The last member of Matthias’s team is up. Weak, but no poison.”
Amazingly, Brint had been telling the truth: none of the Sylveren mages had died.
Over a dozen had been locked away in the bowels of the cavern, some in dire condition.
But for what it was worth, Eren Galwynd had been true to his word.
He’d informed the king of Rhell of the failure at the Landing, and King Jeron had sent three ships out immediately to aid his youngest brother.
Between the healing tea and a pair of strong menders who’d arrived on one of Jeron’s ships, the desperately ill pulled through.
Still, surviving the cursed point didn’t come without cost. More than half of the afflicted mages’ magic had burned out, among other lingering side effects, and not even the miracle tea could restore that which had fully been lost. Calya quietly kept a record of names and conditions, of the losses the Coalition had caused.
She would prove her past self wrong, prove that people could be evidence.
If she had to present them as numbers and damages, then so be it, but the Coalition would pay.
The fifth day dawned cold but bright, a bite of frost in the air. Winterfest was around the corner. Froley greeted Calya with a fresh-from-the-oven muffin the size of her face and a wicked grin.
“Might want to eat this down at the dock,” they said. “The Rhellians are taking Avenor back today. To the Valley. Guess your Sentinel claimed authority.”
“With entertainment like this, the Landing is bound to be discovered,” Calya teased.
She wandered down to the water, her good humor waning a touch as troublesome thoughts arose.
Her Sentinel. If the Rhellians were leaving, would Lowe go with them?
Given all that had transpired, her forced convalescence, and his Sentinel obligations in the cleanup efforts, they’d hardly had a moment of privacy.
Not that it should’ve mattered; they were both returning to the Valley, so it wasn’t as if she’d never see him again.