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The rest of the ride is silent, even when we stop a footnote from the unnamed archway. I pull the coat’s loop hood over my head and shift my skirt for easy access to my dagger. I hope I don’t need it. My senses haven’t alerted me to anything unusual, but if my fears are right and this soldier’s intentions aren’t as pure as he’s claimed, I’ll be ready.
The first thing I notice is the encampment’s stone arch because it’s torches burn orange.
Not blue.
The relief I feel at not suffering through another judgment is brief, soon followed by curiosity. All sanctioned villages in Central Arcane must have the fare at each entry point, which begs the question… where the hell are we?
My senses spike as the soldier walks our horse underneath the passage. This time, instead of pricking with caution, they jump with excitement. In the three years I’ve had my powers, I’ve never felt my magic so… happy.
The cause: intricate shapes etched into the blocks shaping the arch. Circles, squares, and a myriad of others are intricately layered to create a tapestry of symbols. My gaze trails along them, ascending to the arch's zenith and descending partway down the other side, only to lose sight as we stray too far for me to see the rest.
The next thing I notice is the size of what we’ve walked into. From a distance, this looked like a modest clearing in the middle of nowhere. I’m shocked as I take in the vastness and realize someone cast a cloaking spell because this is no transient campsite.
We’re in a village.
Where the people live in tiny houses built from bricks, cracked and patched in more places than not. Not tents. As we trek into the town, I count ten homes and add more questions to my running list.
Why isn’t the king’s crest branded onto the door of each house?
How many more buildings are hiding in darkness that I can’t see?
Who out there is strong enough to shield a place this big? And why?
The deeper we ride, following a dirt path forged between two rows of houses, the more I want to know who the villagers are. This far into the forest, its people are cut off from the outside world. They have to be. If they’re caught roaming within the woods by infantry, they’ll be sanctioned.
Unless this is a military base, one so far off the grid, King Travers can torture his victims without worry of who might see or hear.
The soldier walks us to a small house with a painted black door and ties the horse to a post. He extends a hand to help me off the saddle. I ignore it, not wanting to find myself pinned between him and the horse, and scurry off the opposite side. I round the front of the beast and send my webs into the darkness.
I found little more than a dozen hearts steadily beating in their beds as we rode in, confirming that most villagers are asleep. Only two souls move within the house before us, and one lays still. But beside me… there’s nothing.
Not a single indication that I am next to someone.
I stop short of the front stoop and watch as the man I see but can’t sense open the door and walk inside. I hear his whispered voice speak to the two flickering hearts, one speeding up the more the soldier talks, but his heart is lost to me.
The soldier pokes his head out, eyes scanning the terrain before locking on me. “Are you coming?”
Every instinct I have screams for me to say no. I don’t know why he’s been shielded or how many others like him are waiting to ambush me once I step inside. I don’t even know if this is where Ezra’s been taken.
I weigh my options, even though there are only two. Trust the man and walk into the unknown, or leave and risk abandoning the only person I consider family.
In truth, there’s no question as to what to do. Ezra would venture into the pits of hell for me. And I’d do the same for him.
The soldier's lip twitches upward at my hesitation. “If it makes you feel better, you can show your dagger instead of hiding it.”
“You knew I was armed?”
“Given our previous encounter, I figured there was a good chance.” He eyes the silver dagger in my hand. It’s smaller than the one I pinned him with earlier but just as deadly. “I’ll warn you, though, if you attack, I’ll have no choice but to defend. Those aren’t good odds.”
“I’ve been in worse.”
“Maybe, but.” He steps onto the stoop and unsheathes the knife he used in the woods to cut his pear. He hands it to me, hilt first. “Take this one too. It won’t do much good, but you’ll have a fighting chance this way.”
I take the weapon. If anything, it’s one less to worry about. The soldier goes back inside and leaves me to make the next move. I hold a blade in each hand and stare at them. I beg for my magic to give me a sign. Either set my senses on fire as a warning or provide some form of assurance.
I feel nothing.
No trepidation for what lies ahead or mollification. In a last-ditch effort, I reach into my mind and unlock the chamber hiding my darkest secrets. Every fiber in my body burns as my power manifests. My magic reaches for the elements, bending itself to the world, growing beyond what I’m comfortable with while I struggle to remain in control.
