post 17

Honey barked, and Cassia tried to shush her. But it was too late. Atropos dug his heels in and stopped, stopping Cassia as well. A warm current brushed over her head and she gasped. A shaggy figure rose from in front of them in the road. Flickers of green rippled along its fur, like the play of lighting on metal. The werewolf stood upright on its clawed back legs, but it hunched over, baring abnormally long canines that gleamed grotesquely in the unnatural green light. The shoulders and torso of the wolf were those of a man’s though his arms were much longer than usual, since they helped in the creature’s lope. Its eyes were slanted and sharp over a flat nose and wide, slack mouth. Its ears were flat and pointed against his head, like and elf’s, but hairy.

“What do you want?” demanded Atropos.

Cassia blinked at him. Atropos should know exactly what they wanted – the werewolves wanted them dead, so that they could eat their flesh.

It growled, a low, grating sound at the back of its throat. Low yips sounded from various points encircling Atropos and Cassia. She glimpsed a movement to her right, but she did not dare to move. Cassia squeezed her eyes shut and held Honey close to her. She had heard that death by werewolf mauling was extremely painful – but she hoped that they were merely legends – no one survived a werewolf attack.

“I don’t understand,” Atropos was murmuring, “How did they catch up so fast.”

“There are many things you don’t understand, elf.” A hooded mage stepped into the ring. A hand reached up and pushed back the hood.

Atropos stared, “Diamantia?”

Cassia gaped at the figure, so much like her, yet not.

The girl laughed and pitched her voice higher, “try again, Atropos.” Cassia shivered. The voice was exactly like…

“Cass…ia?” Atropos glanced at her, right next to him, and blinked back and forth between her and the hooded girl, who blinked back coyly. He shook himself free from his daze. “What are you?” he demanded fiercely.

A laugh tinkled from the girl’s lips, and she pulled up the hood so that her face was in shadow again. “Haven’t you guessed? I am the Eirdna, mage of all mages. I am what you care for most, I am what you despise and fear above all else.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” declared Atropos.

The voice sighed through the hood. “Of course not. Tempest is so paranoid about whom he tells about me. I am his greatest weapon, after all. I torture his victims in their final moments of life, and they will never be seen on the face of the earth.”
Cassia looked at her in horror. In her hands, where she had not noticed before, Eirdna held a green sphere. Eirdna held up the ball. “You wondered how the werewolves caught you so quickly. You were right to be curious. Werewolves cannot run.” She laughed scornfully. “And my werewolves cannot speak, either, nor do anything that displeases me.” The ball glimmered dully under the green. “This is the source of my control,” she said, rolling the sphere between her fingers. It fit neatly into her palm, and was weighty, judging by the way he held it. She glanced up suddenly, at Atropos, and from the depths of her hood her eyes flashed with a green light. The ball glowed with sudden energy.

“What is it?” Atropos stared at it, fascinated.

“You would not have heard of it,” Eirdna said, smiling indulgently. “Look at the werewolves. Look closely. What is missing?”

Cassia looked. The closest one was barely five feet away. His unwrinkled face looked young, like Thad. Cassia wondered how the person had been so unfortunately converted. The nose was short and muddied, the eyebrows had grown upward, to meet the hair drifting down from the scalp. And his eyes? A shiver ran through her. There was only one. The left socket was stuffed with dirt.

“Their left eyes,” Eirdna said, smiling. “That is how you control werewolves. It is a complex formula, but what you have when you are finished,” she sighed, “is unimaginable power.”

“It is never wise to tell your enemy your strategies,” remarked Atropos with a grimace, looking for a way out.

Eirdna followed his eyes. “You will not find any openings, believe me. Which is why I can well afford to tell you everything. You will not live past the next ten minutes.” Her eyes glittered. “So you will take these secrets to the grave.” Eirdna raised her arms, and the werewolves tensed to spring.

Atropos glanced at Cassia. He looked down in defeat. Cassia closed her eyes and wondered what it would be like to die.

Then there was a screech. Cassia opened her eyes again. The green that hummed in the air.

The werewolves and Eirdna had collapsed to the floor. The hand which had held the green orb lay outstretched. The orb was pierced like bead on a slender, feathered arrow. The point of the arrow was embedded in Eirdna’s throat.

A rustle from the undergrowth snapped Atropos and Cassia into alertness. Atropos drew his sword as a small figure emerged. The figure was a short girl, with plump fingers which clutched a bow almost as tall as her. Messy red bangs partially obscured lazy, mischievous eyes. Her grin revealed sharp, white teeth. “You’re alright, aren’t you?” The girl asked with a slight lisp.

Atropos narrowed his eyes slightly, still wary. “We are fine, but we would have been torn to bits had you waited a while longer.”

The grin grew wider as the girl shrugged and brushed off the dirt from her brown dress, belted at the waist. “Details. You’re alright now.”

Atropos rolled his eyes.

Cassia blinked slowly. “You’re a goblin!”

The girl made a gesture with her hands, flicking her palm up, curling her fingers slightly. “I am very much a goblin. You are a human. And you,” she repeated the gesture to Atropos, “are and elf.”

“How very observant of you,” growled Atropos.

The goblin girl quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Cassia looked around. The mist had receded slightly, probably because of Eirdna’s death, but the light was still dim, and the bodies that ringed them looked like mere lumps in the earth. She counted the werewolves. There were eleven. Honey shivered suddenly. She looked down to see Honey’s fur standing on end. Cassia frowned. The threat was over. Was the goblin girl untrustworthy? She looked at her, still standing in front of them, one long bare foot over the other. She was relaxed, resting her chin on her hand and the hand on the top of her curled bow. An arrow was clasped lazily in her free hand, and the goblin girl regarded the two of them through lidded eyes.

A movement caught Cassia’s eye. The mound behind the goblin was rising slightly. So slowly that Cassia would not have noticed it if Honey had not caused her to be on supercharged alert. She glanced at Atropos. He was scowling at the ground, his jaw working, his eyebrows knitted in thought. She returned her gaze to the goblin, and tensed. The werewolf was rising quickly now, one eye opened wide, nostrils flared. He was no longer controlled by Eirdna, but that made the situation worse, not better – he was acting on pure, unbridling bloodlust. Honey shifted and Cassia felt the dagger that Archia had given her press against her side. In one swift motion – later she was unsure of how she managed to retrieve the dagger without entangling the scabbard in her clothing – she hurled it at the mass of fur.

The goblin girl’s eyes widened slightly as the dagger hurled towards her, but she did not move as it swept past her and embedded hilt-deep in the chest of the werewolf. A budding growl died into a whine. Cassia froze, weak with relief. The goblin girl grinned, slower than before, but more sincere. She cocked her head slightly. “Well, you aren’t as slow with a weapon as you are with words, at least.” She repeated her hand gesture, but this time bowed her head slightly over her open palm. “A-ril, human girl.” She straightened. “Follow me.” And with that she turned and began to skip lightly up the road.

post 16

Cassia felt a shiver run through her at Atropos’s tone. He had been dry and abrasive during their trip to the Crossroads and back, but this was different. Atropos’s voice was flat and lacked any warmth, even betraying real anger at her father. “I thought you and my father were friends. I thought you two grew up together,” Cassia said shortly.

“We did, though he was many years older than I.” Atropos stated mutedly. “And we were.”

“Until when?” Cassia demanded. “Until a few months ago, when he arrived at Laddinley, and the entire scandal with Diamantia blew up?” Atropos’s eyebrows knitted at the name. “Shouldn’t you have known?” Cassia continued in a heated whisper, “when you saw me? Don’t we look the same, anyways?”

“Almost the same,” Atropos corrected her.

“Why did you pick now to antagonize him, then? Why not twenty years ago, when Diamantia was born?”

Atropos was silent. Cassia, irritated, continued running alongside Atropos easily. After months of training, months of strict, disciplined practice, she was in the best shape of her life. Instead of gasping loudly and painfully, as she had the very first run with Step, she could now keep the rhythm of her steps the same. They were also indiscernible. The sound of their leather shoes on the dirt road was akin to dry leaves skittering across the same path. They were making sure that only thing that guided the werewolf would be scent, which would make its travel tedious and tentative.

After about and hour, the scenery had not changed. Cassia had not expected it to; the forest ran for many miles along the southern road. It would be a while before the forest thinned to shrubs, then to a dry plain, before the earth rose to form the cluster of mountains that housed the goblin city of Keshia.

“So,” Cassia ventured after the minutes began to become uncomfortable. “What exactly is the plan?”

“First we go south,” Atropos said, voice dry again. “Traveling as we are, we should be able to lure the werewolf away from Laddinley, yet stay so that we are far ahead. We’ll pass Keshia, which should detour the werewolf. It will blunder through. Perhaps the Keshian militia will even take care of the werewolf for us, and save us from having to face it ourselves.”

Cassia frowned. “Do you really believe that?”

Atropos let out a breath. “No. Werewolves rarely are distracted from their query, especially when they are being paid, and I have no doubt that Tempest paid it well. But it is something to hope for, because the whole of Keshia is much, much better equipped than we are, and thus they stand a much greater chance of slaying the werewolf.”

They continued running. “But…” Cassia tried to remember her lessons, which seemed decades ago. “Isn’t Keshia a township?”

“Yes.”

“Is that not a concern?” Cassia asked sarcastically.

Atropos pressed his lips together, so that the faint moon cast a dark shadow on his chin. “It is a concern that we must ignore.”

“Can we not warn the people, at least?”

“No. The people of Keshia would not be happy to know that they face a werewolf. They may simply turn us to it.”

“So you will let them be surprised by one?”

“Their defenses are well equipped,” Atropos said shortly. “And they are just goblins, after all. In times such as these, our kind must come first. It is the only way.”

Our kind being what? Cassia wondered. Humans or elves?

Atropos slowed into a brisk walk. “I think we can break for dinner,” he whispered. “The werewolf must be at least two hours behind us.”

Cassia let Honey out of the sling. She trotted happily, her breath coming in soft whoofs. Atropos brought out a large chunk of bread and broke it in half, handing one portion to Cassia.

Cassia bit into the soft crust, which was still faintly warm. The scent of butter and yeast filled her nose, blocking out the earthy scents of the night forest with images of home. Cassia thought of warmth, warmth unhindered by arching boughs that imprisoned as well as protected. A cold breeze snaked through Whispering footsteps scrambled up a nearby tree.

Then a thud resounded in the forest.

Cassia lunged down and replaced Honey in the sling, but Honey did not complain. She huddled at the bottom of the pouch and shivered. “What was that?” Cassia whispered.
Atropos shook his head. He sped up, and Cassia matched his pace. They were running again. The terrible bay rebounded against the moon, now full and uncovered by the dark fog. Before it faded it was picked up by answering voices. The chorus of howls rose into the air.

Atropos and Cassia exchanged alarmed glances – it was not a single werewolf chasing them; it was a pack.

The rest of the night was spent in hurried, blind panic. When Cassia thought back to those moments her memories were unclear, consisting of flashes of movement, the sensation of being whipped across the face by a stray branch hanging over the side of the road, stinging pain, ragged breaths of Atropos beside her, the thudding, warm weight of Honey, who she clutched against her side, and the occasional bays that kept echoing closer and closer, like thunder that cuts across the quiet of a storm. Every time they called, Cassia forced herself forward and prayed that they would lose their trail, fade away.

But werewolves were notorious good trackers, and neither she nor Atropos were making any attempt to hide their trail. Speed was their friend, and they were sprinting through the wild night.

“How much longer?” Cassia gasped, squinting but failing to read a faded road sign.
Atropos strained his sharper eyes, “two miles. Almost there.” His voice was hoarse and extremely strained. “Look.”

Cassia raised her head and peered through the mist that had begun to rise nearly an hour ago. Dull prinpicks of light, which she had thought were the obscured stars, now shone brighter. She realized that they were too low to be part of the night sky. Keshia. “What happens? When – we get there?”

Atropos looked weary, “Run – through town – plan – holds.”

Cassia sighed, regretting it immediately as the breath whooshed out of her lungs. She quickly sucked in air, making a sound similar to a fish. Atropos glanced over, and exchanged a look with her. Then he quickly turned his attention inward, steeling himself for the last two miles. Cassia concentrated on the dots of light in the distance, feeling the earth pound against her feet with each step, feeling her ears ring in an answer.

A hair-chilling howl rose from somewhere in the trees. Cassia’s heart leapt against its already jagged cadence. Honey whimpered in response. A thin leaf blade whipped against Cassia’ raw cheek. Her eyes burned. They zoomed past another road marker. Cassia did not need to read it to know what it said.

Closer to the mountains, the fog had thickened, but the cold road beneath and the dim lights ahead were enough to guide them. Cassia opened her mouth to breathe again and another leaf smacked against her face. She spat out a leaf, recognizing the bitter taste of the alia berry.

Its sharp tang burned in her mouth, but she kept going; the berry wasn’t poisonous, and they were so close…

Another howl, much, much close than the previous ones, was answered by half a dozen, the same distance away. Cassia exchanged a panicked look with Atropos. They knew where they were. Rustles could be heard from behind.

“Don’t – under – stand.” Atropos gasped. “They – can’t – run!”

The road tapered out to form two lanes.

post 14

“Hello,” Archia said stiffly to their half sister.

“Hello, Archia – oh, Pixies” Diamantia said softly as she noticed Cassia and looked her up and down.

Honey let out a throaty bark halfway between a growl and a laugh. Diamantia smiled. “You must be Cassia.”

“You – you must be Diamantia.” Cassia gulped. Diamantia’s eyes narrowed slightly as hers did when she was hiding a laugh.

“Yes, I –”

“What are you doing here?” Archia demanded sharply. Her face had gone pale and taut, as if she knew exactly why Diamantia was here, but she wanted to give her trouble in spite of Diamantia’s purpose.

Diamantia gave Archia a cool, level glance, and turned to address Cassia. “Atropos wants me to take you to the flats.”

“Flats?” Cassia echoed.

“Our –”

“Training grounds,” Archia finished. “Have my mother and father approved?”

“Yes.” Diamantia finished. Her eyebrows knitted together slightly as she stared Archia down. Archia glared back, not hiding any of her dislike.

Honey whined, tugging at the edge of Diamantia’s spring green dress with her teeth and snapping both girls out of their silent battle. Archia studied the floor; Diamantia’s eyes flicked to Cassia’s. “Shall we go?”

Cassia looked at Archia, her hands still trembling. Diamantia strode out, followed by Cassia, followed by Honey.

“Ever since your family has arrived, I have heard much about you, Cassia.” Diamantia said casually as they followed a narrow walkway that wound around close growing trees. Cassia was unable to do anything but stare at her. Diamantia’s – and her – wavy brown hair. Diamantia’s grew in a shimmering veil to her waist, while Cassia’s was cropped just below her shoulders. They had the same, triangular eyes, bladed nose, and crooked mouth. “I thought that perhaps it was all an exaggeration. But I can see now that it was no exaggeration.” Diamantia faced Cassia and smiled. Cassia shivered. They had the same smile – but even on Diamantia’s identical face the smile was alien, as if there was a hidden edge behind the warmth.

They pushed past closely grown branches to enter a wide platform, supported by many trees, and bare to the sun. Elves were blurred in constant motion. Honey burrowed close to Cassia’s ankle. They paused at the edge of the flats, away from the training elves.

“Atropos!” Cassia felt relieved to see a familiar face – one that was not her own.

“Hello again, Cassia.” Atropos looked faintly disconcerted as he took in both Diamantia and Cassia standing side by side. Diamantia stepped away from Cassia to Atropos’s side, her eyes, Cassia’s yet foreign, never leaving her half-sister’s face. There was a moment of silence when Diamantia pulled Atropos’s face towards hers for a kiss. Cassia felt odd, as if there was an invisible line on the wooden platform with she and Honey confronting Atropos and Diamantia.

Atropos smiled at Diamantia warmly, then cleared his throat, avoiding Cassia’s uncomfortable gaze. He turned around and beckoned. An elf stepped forward, seemingly appearing out of the entropic mass of lithe bodies. He was tall, though slightly shorter than Atropos, and he walked forward with controlled footsteps. He flashed Cassia a quick smile and took a casual stance, his narrow golden eyes sweeping over Atropos, Diamantia, Honey, and Cassia. “This is Step.” Atropos placed a hand on Step’s shoulder. “He’ll be in charge of your training.”

Cassia blinked. “What about you?”

Atropos glanced at Diamantia. “The Brotherhood wishes me to do some scouting work…” he said vaguely, “…and I have some business to tend to.” Atropos nodded first to Step and then Cassia. “Train well.” And with that, Atropos took Diamantia’s hand and left.

Cassia looked at Step, who regarded her carefully. “Follow me.” He said simply. He strode off, ignoring the battle cries and the clash of weapons as he crossed the yard. Cassia wondered if Step had simply grown used to it. She flinched as a dagger flew past her ear to thud into a wooden practice dummy. She hurried to catch up to Step.

They entered a low building that Cassia had not noticed until Step opened the door. The walls were as rough and weathered as the surrounding bark. The interior was stacked with various swords, daggers, spears, and arrows. The small space was dimly lit by crystal jars filled with a liquid, with a daub of light suspended in the middle. “Um…Step, what are those?” Cassia asked, glancing at him sidelong.
Step’s narrow eyes flickered to the bobbing light. “Those are aether lights. They don’t need air to burn, so they can be kept in the crystal. Candles are extremely dangerous in Laddinley, since the entire network of trees can burn within minutes.”

“How do you know?”

“It has burned before. Sometimes by enemy hands, sometimes by a careless member of the Brotherhood. Of course, that was long ago, before the location of Laddinley became secret and the Brotherhood discovered aether lights.” He turned away and reached into the shadows, lifting a box of dully glinting weapons. “So I’m told that your household has received training.” Cassia nodded. “Well, those that had already arrived in Laddinley are already being trained; however, you arrived late, due to your errand. You are your father’s child, which makes you a more appealing target, and also, of your siblings, you are most likely to be engaged in combat.” Cassia smiled wanly. Padrig was only five – he could barely lift a dagger, let alone fight with it. Her sister was pregnant, and Thad had never shown a great interest in training, though he was good at it. “Because of all this,” Step continued, “The Brotherhood and Atropos have agreed that I should train you personally.”
Cassia frowned slightly. “Who is everyone else being trained by?”

“The weapons master, the trainer of all the elven children.”

“Then…I hope you do not mind if I ask…” Cassia tried to recall if elves were easily offended. It was probably not wise to insult one inside a weapons storage room.

“Why am I, of all elves, your instructor?” Step raised a cool eyebrow. Cassia nodded. “Because I am the best.” He stated. He peered into the box, and selected a long bow, a cloth quiver, a long sword, and a mace.

Cassia exchanged glances with Honey. “Alright then,” she said softly.

Step looked up. “You have a dagger already, don’t you?”

Cassia started. “How do you know?”

Step pointed to Cassia’s sleeve, where the faint outline of her dagger sheath showed. “A good battle strategist must be observant of all variables.”

Cassia nodded, impressed. “That is what my old training master said.”

Step smiled a second time, the corners of his mouth raising into a quick ‘v’ before dropping into a line. “I’ve selected these weapons for you.” He indicated the small pile. “But first we must train so that you can wield them as well as any soldier. I’m told that you’ve had some training, and you look like you’re no stranger to running, so perhaps this stage of the conditioning won’t take you long.” He stopped and looked at Cassia expectantly.

“So…what shall I do now?” She asked, confused.

Step opened the door. “Start running.”

post 12

“This is a great improvement from running,” Cassia commented.

Atropose laughed, but with a mischievous glint in his grey eyes. “You humans. That was not running. That was a brisk jog. When you arrive at Laddinley. I will show you what real warrior training is.”

Cassia stared at him straightfaced. “I look forward to it.”

Atropos raised an eyebrow, “You do?”

Cassia nodded. “I’m sure it will be an interesting experience.” She stared at the wall next to Atropos’s head. Her voice trembled at bit, “and I think that even though what I’ve seen is most likely nothing from what others have seen…it’s not something I want anyone else to have to experience, either. I want to fight, and I want this war to be over.”

Atropos raised the other eyebrow, then sighed. “Your father has changed since he first stumbled into Laddinley, you know.” He stared at the opposite wall as well. “As has the Brotherhood. You might say we’ve…exchanged some ideas.”

Cassia waited, stratching Honey behind the ears.

“Time was that your father hated the idea of war, or any kind of physical melee. He believed that diplomacy could solve everything – though I suppose in those days it mostly had, for him.” Atropos’s eyes were distant. “And for us, the idea of negotiation was unheard of. We were raised with the idea of getting all of our demands – or fighting to the death to get them.” Atropos suddenly turned back to the present. “What do you think, Cassia?” he asked.

“I…I think that neither is completely effective. It is not wise to take up arms at the first insult, but neither can you continue speaking if the other does not listen or understand.”

“Hm.” Atropos stared at her for a second, and smiled slightly. “I think that the philosophy held by both your father and the Brotherhood at this time.”

Cassia tapped the bench with a finger. “But you are one of the Brotherhood. Isn’t that what you think, too?”

“To be honest, I am not sure what to think right now,” Atropos said, shrugging. “I do not know if this fighting that is to come is justified. I do not know who is in the right.”

Cassia stared at him. “But you saw what Tempest did to Cristo and the Armet. Don’t you think that their deaths demand retribution?”

“And before their deaths, your father and Laddinley were none too secret in their military preparations.” Atropos reminded her. Then he sighed. “Do not take what I am saying too harshly, Cassia. Do not believe me traitorous. I, too, am angered by the deaths of Cristo and the Armet. When the time comes, I will fight alongside my Brothers both for settlement of that debt, as well as the overthrow of Tempest, and the victory and glory of our people.”

“I am glad,” Cassia told him, heart pounding.

A slight cloud still hung over his brow. “However,” he stopped himself and looked slightly embarrassed. “Forgive me if I confide in you.”

It was Cassia’s turn to shrug. “If you do not want me to, I will never speak of this again.”
Atropos nodded gratefully. “I am your father’s age, so I have seen much more than you. I have lived through wars, both great and petty. Know that, after all these years, I am not sure what to think of this constant disagreement. I understand that we have values or property that we should defend with our lives. But I have seen many go to their deaths. And at their death…what purpose is there to them? The only gain is to be gained by the living.”

“But we are living now.” Cassia replied.

“But eventually, like all things, we shall die.” Atropos insisted.

Cassia was silent for a second. “My tutor used to tell me that the runner who fears the exhaustion of the conclusion of the race will never be great. My father says that heroes never fear death, because their cause is greater.”

“I suppose that is part of my problem, then. What cause is so great?”

Cassia shrugged. “I suppose you have to deem it to be great. Otherwise, how can it be worth all the trouble?”

Atropos smiled. “I admire your faith in things, Cassia.” His eyes were sharper can clearer than they were a few minutes ago, but creases still remained in his brow. “I cannot say that I can admit that you are right, however.”

“Ha! You know not what right is – yet you follow it – to win!” Marantha interjected. Her eyes opened briefly – wide and wild – and then she dropped off again.

Cassia giggled.

“You should get some rest,” Atropos said, looking embarassed. “We’ll probably be at Laddinley by the time you wake up.”

Cassia nodded. She realized how tired she was after running all day. Atropos turned over and closed his eyes. His head soon bobbled with the movement of the cart. Honey looked up at her with liquid eyes. She spilled to the ground and curled up on the worn wood. Cassia stared at the opposite wall, waiting for sleep to overtake her.
“Want to take a look at the scenery, my dear?”

Cassia jumped. Marantha’s eyes gazed at her, half-lidded. “Um…yes.” She said uncertainly, “Please.”

A slow, warm smile spread over Marantha’s face and she lifted a gnarled hand. A section the length and width of Cassia arm blurred and turned transparent. Cassia gaped at the old gypsy. Marantha’s eyelids had begun to dip, and her beam shrunk until she was limp and snoring like the night.

Cassia gazed through the window, unable to sleep now. Outside, the sun had gone and the night sky was a clear navy blue. Cassia frowned. She could not make out the familiar clumped shadows of the trees. Then the moon drifted lazily past the window, and several figures became illuminated – the long and sinuous bodies of snakes. The silver and green patterns on their scales glinted in the delicate light as their flight rippled with the eddies of drafts. The nearest one turned its head and its golden eyes glowed in the starlight. A forked tongue flickered out, as if in greeting. Cassia, unsure if the snake could see her in the dark, raised a hand. The head turned away. The snakes made a wriggling movement and descended, moving out of view from the window in seconds.

Cassia wondered why they left. The night was still early, and she had read that Witches usually migrated throughout the night. A light caught her eye. She shivered as the wagon became uncomfortably warm. A pulsing red-orange ball of light pressed against the bottom of the other side of the window, followed by another one. Her eyes widened. She had heard whispers of them. They were Kyrees. [*Kurage-no-hinotama - a jellyfish that floats through the air as a fireball.] She watched, fascinated, as the cherry red top of the Kyree moved up the side of the window. It was the shape of a bowl placed rim down. Below the top was a cluster of red-orange flames that rippled as the thing moved.

Cassia rose, waking Honey, who opened one eye, regarded the Kyrees, mumbled something in protest, and fell back asleep. Cassia touched her hand to the glass. She could feel the unnatural warmth tingling up her arm. She looked out in a greater distance and saw dozens more Kyrees drifting in the sky. They moved without haste and without purpose. Cassia felt her weariness return as lethargy followed the warmth. She felt her limbs grow limp, and slight concern nudged her, wondering how she was to return to her seat. She did not remember closing her eyes.

post10

Cassia shivered, looking at the place where the wagon had vanished. The only trace of its existence was in the dusty swirl in the road. She turned and ran to catch up with Atropos, who was already in the distance. They walked in silence for a while. Elongated shadows moved in unison with them, shrinking steadily even as Cassia felt its warm fingers touch her back.

They passed a small fork in the road, which read, “Main Crossroads, 5 miles.”

“Almost there,” Atropos murmured, picking up his pace. He trotted forward with an easy lope, his blond air streaming behind him past his ears. Cassia panted, trying to keep up. Honey, who chose to sleep again, bumped softly against her with each step. Every breath burned raw in her throat. Her arms hung slackly at her side, much too weary to lift the flask of water to her lips. She pushed herself onward, knowing that the Armet were close.

Atropos slowed and cursed. Cassia kneeled over, relieved. “What is it?”

Atropos scanned the road, which dipped and curved around a stretch of trees. He pulled Cassia just to the edge of the road, in sight, but away from danger.
Cassia strained her ears and made out a strange wailing in the distance. Honey, who was stirred when Cassia stopped, pawed at the sling, growling quietly. Cassia glanced at Atropos, whose eyes were still and distant, trained on the curve in the road.

When the first figure came into view his eyes narrowed. More followed. They were all women of indeterminate age. They all had copper eyes.

“More Witches,” breathed Cassia.

Atropos frowned. “They are traveling early.”

“We passed through territory of another traveling group two days ago,” Cassia told him.

Atropos said nothing, but his eyebrows furrowed. The Witches traveled gracefully, unburdened by luggage. Instead of chattering amongst themselves as they usually did while traveling, all the Witches had their faces to the sky, singing and wailing in unison.

The Great One sent the Witch and
The Wizard
To their death
But the Wizard slew the Great
And the Witch slew the One
And the war-drums cried and sang
Arche has fallen, war is upon us!

Cassia shivered. She recognized the chant as one of the Witch folktales that often doubled as a dirge. Their singing voices were plaintive and haunting, unlike their hissing speech.

“What news?” called Atropos to a tall, raven haired Witch.

She turned to him, her eyes glistening. “Arche has fallen, War is upon us,” she wailed, unseeing. Honey whimpered, struggling to get out and run. Cassia tucked Honey into her arms. She was afraid that Honey would be trampled by the Witches, who seemed mad with grief.

Atropos and Cassia watched uneasily as they continued their chant. The last Witches were closely knotted together; a light haired Witch was being dragged by two others. Her silver skin was pale and taut over her pale face. Her eyes were half lidded and unblinking. It was only a small band of Witches, so it was not long before they passed the two and disappeared in the distance.

“What do you think happened?” asked Cassia, still hugging Honey close. Atropos shook his head. “There’s no telling what happened. It’s best not to worry about it now. We need to get to the Armet.” He strode forward. Cassia sighed and followed.
“Atropos,” she asked. “How did you meet my father?”

Atropos was silent for a moment, remembering. “I met him ___ years ago, before I led the Brotherhood,” he said, “I was fifteen. Your father was just a year older. He’d just had a fight with his own father.”

“My father had a fight with granddad?” Cassia murmured to herself. Then she stopped and looked at Atropos. “Sorry.”

Atropos nodded and went on, “He packed his bags and rode into the forest. He intended to stay until his father tried to find him, and negotiate then. Except he wandered too far away from the edge of the forest, too close to Laddinley. In those days we were still extremely hostile to your people. Everyone was hostile to anyone not their own. I was assigned to keep watch over him to make sure that he would not wander too close to our borders.” A bird cawed raucously and he broke off. His hands tensed on his spear.

Cassia scanned the trees. It was just a bird, she hoped. “What happened then?” she asked in a whisper.

The corner of his lips quirked into a smile. “He got too close, and he realized where he was. And he began to panic.”

“Let me guess,” Cassia said dryly, “he was caught and you persuaded your people to let him go?”

Atropos laughed. “Something like that. Except he didn’t need my help. I just blundered through the negotiations. It was your father that freed himself. He that persuasive even then. He saw that we were low on game, hiding in our small section of forest. He offered up supplies from his family in exchange for a secret alliance.” Atropos sighed, “he talked about peace between all species. Peace in Arche.”

“So you accepted?”

“Of course we accepted. He returned to his house, and made good on his promises. His family ensured that no one of our enemies would ever stray as close to Laddinley as he had. And now that he is in danger, it his our turn to help him.”
“That was a fruitful alliance.” Cassia remarked.

Atropos nodded, “It certainly was. It is amazing how well it worked out for both of us. I suppose it’s all due to your father’s persuasion.”

“And integrity on both sides.” Cassia said, recalling something her history tutor had once said.

“Yes…integrity.” Atropos murmured. A stone marker read One Mile to Crossroads.

“Was any of my family hurt at all?” Cassia asked.

Atropos shook his head. “Thankfully, your father had scouts watching in a circle around the house. Everyone – your family, your servants – is safe at Laddinley. The scouts watching outside were laughing at the soldier’s puzzlement over the empty house.”

Cassia cringed. “Were they angry? Did they destroy the house?”

Atropos shook his head again. “The scouts said that they seemed uninterested in torching the place. Their orders, apparently, were to arrest Master Greystone, and nothing more. Since they failed, they no longer had a reason to be there. The soldiers wouldn’t have had a grudge on your father. Only Tempest really dislikes him. Besides, even Tempest would have enough sense not to publicly destroy the property of one of the most popular men in Arche.”

Cassia smiled. “Tempest won’t have an easy time trying to overpower him, then.”

“No, he won’t,” Atropos agreed. “Not with the normal citizens and soldiers.” He paused. “But there have been rumors. You heard the gypsy. Something is happening.”
Cassia looked at him.

Atropos shrugged, “I don’t know what it could be. But Tempest would need to strike a deal with bordering countries, perhaps Trictia, or Balpados across the sea.” He grimaced. “But I suppose we should not speculate. We are here.” Cassia looked up as they rounded another bend. The gap in the trees widened to show the large area where three paths struck across each other.

Cassia glanced around. “So where are the Armet?”

post 7

The silence was broken by Honey’s abrupt whining. She rose on her hind legs and pawed anxiously at the ground. Moments later, there was a rapping at the front door. Cassia quickly hid the dagger in the pocket under her tunic. Archia rose and walked through the tunnel into the front room. Cassia followed.

A tall, lean man with floppy brown hair was peering through the window. When he spotted Archia and Cassia, he snapped to attention. When Archia opened the door, he snapped a salute. “Good evening, Ma’am, miss.”

“Hello,” Archia said cordially, “How may I help you?”

“I have a letter for Cassia Graystone?” Cassia stepped forward. The messenger held out a sealed envelope. “This is from your father. He says that you no longer need to contact the Armet. Things have settled, and he wishes that you would come home.” He held out a sealed envelope. “He also sent this.”

Cassia glanced at the seal, noting its silvery sheen, and the Owl mark pressed into the wax.

Dearest Cassia,
I was thankfully able to reconcile with the Junior Counselor Tempest. As the Armet are no longer needed, I ask that you come home. Hopefully my messenger has been able to intercept you before you have gone too far. Your mother is beside herself with worry.
With love,
Father

Cassia looked up at the man. She realized that he was perhaps Thad’s age, or younger. His hair hung slightly longer than usual, a style popular with students and cavalry men in Arche city. He was wearing a typical horseman’s jersey, and trousers, but his shirt was lighter, more suited for a day of study than hard riding. Meanwhile, Archia finished reading over her shoulder.

Archia frowned. “That’s it? The conflict was resolved…just like that?”

The messenger shrugged easily, “the whole of Arche City was shocked. It was actually Counselor Tempest that made the first peace offering.”

Cassia felt a small shiver pass through her. Her father had always fumed about Counselor Tempest’s and his son’s stubbornness.

One afternoon about a year ago, he had stormed into the house and gathered the children of the household to him. “Tempest and his son – are the most hard headed, imbecile in Arche – in the entire continent!” He met each child’s eyes, from his own childrens’ to those of the children of his servants and his siblings. “When Tempest dies he will be replaced by his son, who is only a puppet to his ideas. Do not ever give in, and never underestimate them. If something should ever happen to me, or your parents, you must all find one another, and above all, never join with him. Never trust his sneaking words, never take his peace offerings, because they are all tricks to further advance the cause that he will not let go of!”

Then he had stalked out of the room. Cassia remembered looking around at the twenty-odd people around her. Thad and Archia had been there, as well as little Padrig. Thad, the oldest there, had nodded, as if to confirm his father’s words. Afterwards, everyone had become subtly closer. They were bound in an unspoken pact, to protect and defend one another. People of the same age trained together, Cassia remembered that her father’s sister and brother had taken their children away when his feud with the Counselors had become known, and others, including Frida and Pent, also fifteen and the sword master’s twins, had been sent on various errands and journeys to other parts of Arche. Perhaps, if she returned, she could find out what happened while she was gone from Weir, who was fourteen and one of the few that stayed behind.

She nodded. “I’ll go pack.” The messenger nodded, and stepped outside. Archia closed the door and followed Cassia through the door and the tunnel.
“You’re not actually going to go with him, are you?” she hissed as they ascended the stairs.”

“I don’t know,” Cassia admitted, “but I know that something is not right.”

“So you’re going with him?” Archia grabbed her arm and glared at her. “You know what could happen to you?”

“I’ll just go with him for a little while. And keep my eye out.”

Archia’s eyes flashed. “It is extremely dangerous. You know that.”

Cassia forced a smile, “I’m from the Graystone household. As are you. Need I remind you that we were trained in surveillance, tracking, and combat?”

“Need I remind you that the training is only cursory and no match for a real fighter?”

Cassia ignored her. “You know

“I need to find out what’s going on.”

The messenger was standing by two grey horses. “Are you coming?” he asked.

Cassia nodded, and swung up on the shorter of the two horses. She adjusted her pack, making sure Honey was safe.

The messenger held out his hand his friendly brown eyes twinkling at her. “My name is Stan, by the way.”

Cassia smiled and shook his hand. They trotted slowly out of the city. Once on the road, they rode in silence for a while. Cassia threw him a sidelong glance. He kept his eyes on the road, and seemed lost in thought.

Cassia stared at her horse’s mane. She wondered if she should say something.
The air suddenly rang with wild whopping. Stan’s head whipped up and his horse whinnied in panic. The forest around the road bristled with lanky elfin men, their prominent ears tipped with piercings. They surrounded the two riders, brandishing lethal metal spears before them in a ring.

Each man wore a leather tunic that was studded with metal bits. One of them, square jawed with blond hair and a red ribbon on his spear, straightened and addressed Stan. “My name is Atropos, leader of the Elfin Brotherhood. The girl must come with us. You will be unharmed.”

Cassia glanced at Stan, who had paled slightly at the sight of the spears. He was likely a student, she guessed, and a messenger, not a fighter at all. He replied, “My mission is to bring her to Arche City.”

Atropos bared his teeth against his lean, sharp features. “And mine is to prevent you from doing so. Obviously we have conflicting objectives. Will you give her to us? Or must we kill you?”

Cassia felt Honey twitch. She put a hand in her sling to prevent her from making a sound. Male elves were not known for their kindness towards animals. When they encountered riders, they often robbed the people and slaughtered their horses for meals. They had no need for horses. They could run just as fast and were just as enduring.

Stan’s eyes shifted from the glinting spears to Cassia, though he did not meet her eyes. He sighed in submission and nodded. Atropos grinned, and began to walk towards Cassia. She felt the leather sheath of her dagger under her tunic, but there was no way to reach it in its pocket in time. She thrust aside panic. In the corner of her eye, she saw Stan’s fingers curl around something. Then the air was thick with smoke. The elves cried in dismay and anger. She felt her horse snort as a hand grabbed the reins. Without sight, she had no choice but to cling to her horse’s mane as she was carried out of the din. Someone burst into view. It was Atropos. His eyes shone with a wild light as he reached for her. His spear was upraised in his right hand. Inches from Cassia, his fingers were stopped. His eyes bulged as he realized that he could not pass. He could only watch in shock as Cassia disappeared into the smoke.

She emerged, feeling claustrophobic. She met the brown eyes of her rescuer. Stan looked at her solemnly. “We have to go,” he said. Cassia nodded and urged her horse into a gallop behind Stan.

post 5

Cassia picked her way down the hill until she reached the sign. Twisting iron curlicues decorated the plain, wooden sign. The sign was the last mark of the blacksmith guild that inhabited the region, before the modern Arche government was established and the blacksmiths were forced into fishing.

Honey leaped to the ground and trotted at her heels. Stone cobbles clicked underfoot, but the few matrons hurrying down the street did not pay much attention to her. She ignored the somber, stone buildings at the beginning of the town, turning down a street towards the middle class, wooden shops and houses that ringed a circular center. She paused, gaping at the identical storefronts that regarded her silently. Cassia hunched her shoulders, as she peered into wide windows, trying desperately to gain a clue. At the end of the street, close to the fishermen’s huts, was a building that did not sport a sign. The large display window revealed a wooden floored room, spartan with a lush rug and two rocking chairs. Inside, a rotund young woman was rocking back and forth. Brown ringlets of hair framed the sides of her face as she worked on something. Something that looked suspiciously like a baby’s gown. Cassia took a deep breath and tried the door. It opened smoothly, the tinkle of wind chimes accompanying her entrance. The woman looked up, and Cassia felt a surge of relief. “Archia?”

“Cassia!” her sister’s face lit up. She struggled to get up as Cassia walked towards her. Her breath labored and as she stood, Cassia could see that Archia’s dress stretched tightly over her swollen stomach.

All of a sudden she felt tentative and shy. She had not seen Archia since before she had eloped, months ago. “How are you, Archia?”

Her sister laughed, and enveloped her in a careful hug. “I am wonderful, Cassia. Cristo is wonderful, and as you can see,” she gestured towards her conspicuous stomach, “we are to be blessed this season.” She grabbed Cassia’s fingers with a rough palm and placed it over her stomach. “Can’t you feel it? The healer says it is to be a girl!”

Cassia felt a soft kick under her hand, and a slow smile spread across her face. “That’s wonderful, Archia,” she whispered. She looked up at her sister’s face, alight with the joy of anticipation. She had always been pretty, but now her eyes were alive, her smile true. Archia looked happier than Cassia had ever seen her.
All of a sudden Cassia was again overwhelmed with the sadness and sense of betrayal that swamped her when Archia first ran off. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
Archia sighed, “I know. And I, you. But don’t you see?” Archia touched her belly gently. “I had to get away from the politics, the fighting, the struggle. I’m happy here, with Cristo.”

“I know,” said Cassia softly.

Archia tried to smile again. “Between you and me, you always were the one who liked the family business.” She stepped back, and took in the knapsack, and Honey, who regarded her with affectionate eyes. Her mouth twisted with amusement. “Your first mission, Cassia? Congratulations.”

Cassia warmed at the praise, but soured slightly when she remembered the apprehension that had been plaguing her all day. Archia touched her shoulder. Cassia looked up. “Something is bothering you,” her sister said simply. Cassia nodded.

Archia indicated the other rocking chair. “Come sit, and talk with me. Like we used to.”

Cassia was finishing the last of her tale when the door opened. She glanced up, startled. The sun had touched the horizon, distorting daytime colors and lengthening shadows and blurring lines. It darkened the features of the man that entered and rendered him as a large silhouette. Archia beamed up, the light in her face rekindled brighter now as she looked at the stranger. “Cristo, look who has come.”

The stranger moved away from the door. Light fell on his face. Earnest, hazel eyes gazed out from eyebrows perpetually knitted in thought. Rough stubble dotted his chin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Welcome, Cassia. Archia has said much about you.”

Cassia smiled nervously and stood, aware now that she was sitting in Cristo’s chair. He waved her back, saying “You’re the guest here – besides, I’d better get working on our supper.”

Archia also rose to her feet. “I’ll help you.” Cristo nodded gratefully at her, offering an arm, which she took. Archia turned to Cassia, and Honey, who had fallen asleep. “I’ll show you the rest of the house, too, if you’d like. And we have a spare bedroom that you can use.”

“Alright.” Cassia gently deposited Honey into her knapsack and trailed Archia and Cristo. They opened a plain, beige door, which opened into a short, wood paneled hallway before opening into a spacious kitchen.

Cassia gaped as Archia pointed out the polished sand wood table, decorated by an assortment of sea pebbles scattered over its surface. Salty strings of seaweed were strung from the ceiling, tickling the nose and recalling distant memories of a childhood summer spent splashing in the beach. Drawings, finished and unfinished, tacked on walls, spread over stools, dominated the scene. “Are these yours, Archia?”
Archia grinned impishly. “They are indeed. I never even tried my hand at drawing until I met Cristo.” Cristo mirrored her grin, his eyes warm as he looked at his wife. Cassia glanced at one of the drawings on the wall. It was vast, covering several feet, and painted with large, watery strokes. A mermaid reclined on pale sand, which seemed to blend with the body. Jet black hair trickled in rivulets down her face, obscuring all but her red eyes. Cassia gestured towards the mess and grinned. “Father wouldn’t approve.” Their father, a proponent of practicality and efficiency, would balk at the extra clutter.

“Father needn’t know.” Archia retorted. She glanced apologetically at Cristo before stepping away and towards the flight of stairs tucked behind a corner. “I’ll show you your room, so you can settle Honey.” Still grinning, Cassia followed her sister up the stairs, keeping a sharp eye on her as Archia labored to climb.

“This is a nice house,” Cassia remarked as they stepped onto the landing.

“It is,” agreed Archia. “Cristo had a hand in its construction, you know. And he promised that once the baby arrives, I can paint the walls, and garden with him.”
Cassia snorted, “You hate gardening.”

Archia smiled blissfully, “Not any longer.”

Cassia raised her eyebrows. Archia stopped at an ornate doorway, carved like the likeness of a grape vine, wooden tendrils fading into the wall. “To be honest, Cassia, there are many things about myself that I discovered after I met Cristo. I suppose that is why I fell for him at first. Those things they say, about finding your other half. They’re true, you know. That’s how I feel about him.”

Cassia gazed at her sister, and was startled to realize that they were almost eye to eye. Cassia had gained the last few inches during the time Archia had left. “I suppose I don’t know you anymore, then,” she said before she could stop herself.

Archia laid a hand on her shoulder. “You will always be my sister, and a great friend.” She told her, “and we can start afresh, and know each other once again.” She smiled, though her eyes begged for understanding. “You can come down when you’re ready – or I’ll call you.”

Cassia watched her sister walk away, and backed into the room, feeling for the bed. “But I will never be your best friend. Cristo will always be better,” she murmured. She settled back against the soft sheets, hugging Honey’s warm, sleeping form close to her, gazing into the dark. Then, before she could help it, sleep snatched her away.

---This isn't part of the story---

There hasn't been a post in nearly a week. Why? Crane has been busy. In fact, she's also busy today. I am not busy, have not been busy, and probably will not ever be truly busy. The fact of the matter is, I have no life.

So Crane asked me to write the next post. And I will. But just so I don't deprive her of a post, she'll just get to write two in a row next time.

Well, I guess that's that. I'd better get to typing.

Farewell, my non-existent readers.

~Beads

post 3

Honey growled an affirmation. With shaking hands, Cassia wrapped up the remainder of the meat and fruit and packed it away. A quick glance at the main road showed that it was no more busy than it had when she first arrived. With a shaking hand, she traced the route. There were only five miles to Millea, and a few more miles to the crossroads.

“Wanna walk, Honey?” Honey was restless, scratching and woofing at the ground. But when Cassia began to walk, Honey stopped, shaking her head vigorously. Despite the tension that she felt, Cassia laughed at Honey’s antics. She picked Honey up and put her in the sling. She continued walking, staying in the safety of the trees, skirting the road and the river with equal caution.

As she walked, her thoughts kept straying to the mermaid in the river. “Perhaps the blood hasn’t been spilt just yet,” she had said. Cassia shuddered. The mermaids were masters of deception and fear. Perhaps the mermaid was merely hungry and hoped for Cassia to become terrified enough as to stray too near the river. Then it could feast on her blood. It was just a trick, a ploy. Yet her mind turned towards the words of her tutor and nurse, Thya. “When the mermaid makes a prediction, my child, you would do well to heed them, for though they are deceptive and manipulative, the mermaid has a strange propensity towards prophecy.” Cassia shook her mind free. Stop it, she told herself. She was just goading you, and you need to remain vigilant.

For a while she forced herself to focus on her journey, taking in the silent river and the shivering, crisp needles that threw striped shadows over the moist, untreaded earth. After a mile the river turned away from the road, narrowing towards the east, closer to the spring where it formed. As Cassia turned away from it in farewell, she thought she saw a glimmer of a scale, but she told herself it was just a wink from the crest of the small waves that flowed down the river.

Cassia sighed, annoyed with her paranoia. She knew that she was acting like a coward. Real heroes, her father often said, reasoned with their fears, and won. They were strong, both from will and necessity. The fearful had minds that were constantly clouded by fear and doubt, which grayed their reasoning and dulled their senses; the valiant knew their worth and their message, and utilized their wit and their resources. The brave sharpened their senses in the face of danger; the timid hid their faces when confronted with excitement. Never be a coward, he’d use to say to his children. The world is littered such people, who are manipulated by the powerful. Heroes are free to shape their world as they’d like. Cassia glanced down at Honey. “You think I could be a hero?”

Honey just met her eyes with her own liquid brown. Then she stiffened, a throaty growl emanating from her muzzle. Cassia instinctively shrank behind a trees. The bark was crumbling and gritty to the touch; the moist smell was laced with something metallic. The brisk clopping of horses and the crack of a whip cut through the eerie silence of the road. Cassia huddled in the shadows. A squad of six to eight horsemen leaned against their horses, urging the lathered mounts to greater speeds. Each man wore a calf length, nondescript coat, but the speed and the rise and fall of their motion revealed the black, white buttoned uniform – the uniform of Arche’s national army. Buckled at their side were stained and naked broadswords. Honey’s ears went back. Cassia stroked her head with trembling hands. Mentally she urged Honey to remain silent. The men passed by within a few armlengths.

“How are you holding up, Gartos?” one of the men yelled to his companion.

With a start, Cassia recognized the dark stain the darkened the dun coat of one of the army men.

“Think you can hold up until the town, Gartos?” Another man called.

“Or will we have to leave you at the edge to nurse your hurt while we do the real work?”

The wounded man, with thick, dark hair that curled over his suntanned head raised a hand and made a rude gesture at the speaker. The rest of the men roared with laughter.

Cassia felt the cool clench of dread fill her again. The town? Which town? She darted through the trees, reckless assurance telling her that the men would not notice her darting through the trees.

“Mer-whores rot you,” Gartos cursed at his companions, his voice gruff with pain. Cassia ran quickly and easily, having been trained by a retired hand-combat specialist since she was twelve. “I’ll hold up well enough.” She knew that she could not keep up with galloping horses for long, but she needed to find out where they were going, and where they came from.

“That’s my man!” A blond-bearded man galloped up to Gartos and slapped his back as he passed. Gartos roared in pain and spat at the rider. Cassia felt a stitch flare up her side. Where are you going? She wondered desperately. A wayward branch flicked her in the side of the face, and she stumbled to a stop. The riders, still whooping and rowdy, quickly thundered out of sight.

Despite her wish to collapse in the dirt at the foot of a tree, Cassia forced herself to keep moving to keep her leg muscles from cramping up. Honey, who had clung to the sling and Cassia’s tunic with her claws during the sprint, barked reproachfully. “Sorry,” Cassia puffed, jogging now. She figured that she had about a mile left until she would reach her sister’s village.

She forced her trembling legs into a steady rhythm. The sturdy beat felt good after that chaotic sprint. It was like the pounding of a drum, much like the one back home, which the head manservant at her house used to announce visitors whenever her father was receiving important guests. Theo, still fairly young and strongly built, would seize the large batons that he beat against the leather casing, once, twice, and thrice. Then he would announce the name of the visitor in a deep booming voice that could almost be mistaken for a fourth drum beat. The doors would be thrown open, and the visitor would strut in to the great dining room table, formally acknowledging her father. A slight silence would prevail for a few moments, the last procedures dictated by Archean tradition. Then father and the guest would guffaw together, the lucky fifth beat, and sit down to a hearty meal.

Cassia smiled grimly as she crested a small hill and began the downward trek that branched from the main road, where the ocean cut into the earth to create the narrow harbor peopled by the fisher folk of Millea. Cassia slowed, then reduced her pace to a walk as she neared the edge of the trees. She paused at the last of them, scanning the village carefully. Still on an elevated area, the entire gathering of huts and buildings were laid out like a map.

The road that trailed to Millea was empty, but perhaps that was to be expected, given the lack of traffic on the main road. Millea contained no defensive walls, so the road merely paused at the sign that read WELCOME TO MILLEA, and then continued past the post office and three story inn the Prongfish. Then it wound past shops and houses , bundled around the healer’s cabin, before thinning out into a dusty trail that looped around the fishermen’s huts until it reached the sturdy dock. Arche, being mostly landlocked, housed few navy vessels in the harbor, so only a handful of dawdling wooden, net-laden sea crafts populated the dock.

Cassia could make out the tiny movements of the few fishermen that remained on the beach. It seemed that the horsemen had not been headed for Millea, at least not for long. “Think it’s safe?” she asked Honey. Honey made no reply at all, but fastened her eyes on the serene town.

Cassia licked her lips, and felt her water flask at her side. Its meager contents sloshed weakly. She needed water, in any case, and she wanted to meet with her sister. Archia, though in many ways Cassia’s opposite, had nonetheless completed many successful missions before eloping, and had always helped Cassia. And Cassia needed this, as tendrils of foreboding continued to needle at her resolve. The abnormalities: the empty main road, the early Witching migration, the mermaid’s prediction, and the army horse riders. She could not help feeling that there was something more serious stirring beneath the simplicity of her errand.

post 1

Honey barked. Her creamy white fur bristled, a sharp contrast to it normal soft feel. At regular intervals Honey’s barking ceases and a low growl tore from her throat, breaking off into a high whine, then resume as a gruff bark. The taut muscles in her back leg bunched, and she sprang. Her leap carried her several feet, and she landed lightly, puffs of gritty sand dancing away from her paws. The snake hissed, its copper eyes glaring balefully at the dog. Honey gave a threatening growl. Then she stepped off the snake and watched it carefully.

Silver and bronze scales writhed, and the outline blurred. Within seconds the snake was replaced by a silver skinned woman clothed in a dusty shift, her copper eyes gleaming. Her breath came raggedly, as if she had been running for the past hour. “You’re a long way from where you should be, my four legged friend,” she told the dog, her breath catching on each word with a slight lisp. Honey stopped barking, but her short, triangle ears still pressed against her skull. Her wide brown eyes were hard. The woman held out her empty palms. “I mean no threat…” She raised her eyes to the sleeping form a little ways away. “…ah.” She met Honey’s eyes. “You would do well to warn your friend when she wakes. This is Witching territory…and not all of my kind would be as tolerant as I.” She smiled humorlessly at the stoic guardian, and turned on her heel. “Good night.” Again her form distorted, and the snake reformed, several feet above the dusty earth. Its long coils worked in the night breeze, and before it hit the ground, was borne upwards, over the scrubby bushes, and faded into the dark night.

Honey watched the witch go with vigilant eyes. She turned one tear-shaped eye to the bundle that was her owner, and padded over. She carefully nosed a slack hand. The form mumbled incoherently and sat up slowly. Mussed brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. Sad brown eyes blinked owlishly over a sharp nose and a wry mouth. A thin fingered hand reached up and brushed away some hair. “Barking at the moon again, Honey?” The girl stroked Honey’s head bemusedly and affectionately. Honey shook the hand away and yipped once, softly. The girl’s lazy smile faded and she frowned. “An intruder? Show me, please.”

Honey trotted back to where he had encountered the witch. The girl hurriedly gathered up her large quilt, stuffing it in the pack that she used as a pillow. She slung a strap over her shoulder and padded up to Honey. The tell tale slither marks and the signs of the scuffle were marked in the dirt.

The girl raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe I slept through that,” her voice was awed. “A witch? You must have been barking your head off, Honey.”

Honey let out a breath that rushed through her teeth like a sigh. The girl looked down apologetically. “I know, I know, not the point” She shook her head. “I had no idea that we’d entered the Witching.” She squinted up at the fading stars, then pulled a crumpled map from the pocket of her tunic. In loose, sepia trousers and a matching shirt and tunic, she blended well with the surrounding scrubland.

Honey lay down, resting her head on her paws as she waited. The girl tapped her fingers on her thigh as she thought. She slowly turned to her right. “If we cut through the Witching, we can find the main road, then follow it to the crossroads, where we can rendezvous with the Armet.”

Honey snorted. The girl leveled her gaze at Honey. “Come on, it’s almost dawn. And everyone knows witches can’t bite in daylight.” Honey rose to her paws resignedly and walked alongside the girl.

The brittle bushes dragged along Honey’s fur and the girl’s pants. By the time the sun had cleared the horizon, the two had left the scrublands and joined with a small trail. The girl had picked Honey up and slung her in a piece of cloth, where she at a piece of dried meat and dozed against the girl’s chest.

The girl’s eyes flickered constantly. Her movements, though fluid and graceful, were wary, and ready. In the distance a copse of trees marked the end of the Witching and the beginning of the Arche’s main road. Her boots quickened their pace as she heard a whisper behind her. Her eyes darted behind her, and saw nothing. In the calm night, she had been lulled into feeling safe. But in stark sunlight, she was vulnerable, easily spotted. She forced herself to relax. Breathe, she told herself. She straightened her shoulders a little. She shouldn’t be fearful. Her family was famous for their bravery. She hoped that she, Cassia, could uphold that.

She passed the copse, the brief shade cooling her fears slightly. She stopped. The main road, normally busy with at least a few pedestrians and horsemen passing constantly, was silent. A cool bead of dread dripped down her stomach. They couldn’t have… She felt a prickle of relief as she heard the clops of a horse and the clatter of a cart.

Still, Cassia pressed back into the shadows of trees as it passed. She squinted at the cart, which was covered with a rusty brown cloth. A hand dangled under the edge of the covering. She sat down hard, her mind reeling with shock. She tried to convince herself that the cart was simply a burial cart from a healing camp, or something. But in her mind’s eye, the events of yesterday took on a morbid significance.

Her father, an influential merchant and soldier, and a good friend with many in the small country, was an outspoken critic of Counselor Tempest, one of the council of three that ruled Arche. At first, supported by popular opinion, the council members and her father had met several times, publicly and privately to resolve issues. But a week ago, Counselor Tempest had died, and his successor was his son, a younger, more volatile personality. He his stubborn tactics had overruled the other two council members.

Then yesterday: “Cassia,” her mother had said casually, as she watched her youngest daughter go through her morning stretches. “I need you to run an errand for me.”
Cassia had slowly eased into straight stance, listening to her mother’s instructions. “Your father wants to send word to several of his friends, to try to see if they can’t reason with the young Tempest.”

“So what can I do, mother?” Cassia had asked.

“Well, I have sent Thad and the others to [insert place names], so I thought that you could travel to Archet Town to send a message to the Armet.”

Cassia looked surprised that father wanted to contact one of the strongest militia groups in Arche. “The Armet? Is father so ready for war?”

Her mother smiled wearily. “We believe that it’s best to be prepared. We don’t yet know what young Tempest is capable of.” A shadow of worry crossed her face. “Will you be alright?”

Cassia straightened. She had never been granted a mission alone before, though she had traveled twice before with her older brother. “I will be, mother. I am almost sixteen.”

Her mother had hugged her fiercely. “I know, but you are still the youngest, and,” she hesitated and lowered her voice a little. “I’m afraid, sometimes that yoru father is aggravating the situation. I am afraid that Arche will return to how it was during the Great Wars.”

I shuddered. The Great Wars, which had happened the decade before my mother was born, had left the country in tatters. The Witches, fairies, elves, and dragons were even more decimated than humans. The council had been established to make sure nothing like that would ever happen again. Another war like that could not happen so soon…could it?

It was then that she began to be afraid. “Could I bring Honey?” He voice had come out higher than she had intended it to.

Her mother nodded, “Of course. Bring Honey. And keep her close.”

Cassia snapped herself back to the present. The dead in that cart could be anyone, she told herself. In any case, her mission was to inform the Armet. There, she could borrow a horse and find her family.

Tear and Crumple

Have you ever heard the sound of ripping paper? Imagine that right now. Except virtually. So the ripping of virtual paper...

Actually, never mind. Just know that we are stopping the previous story, because it really was not going anywhere. So Crane suggested that we do a new story, with the same concept, but slightly different rules.

Five pages at a time. Even though it will take a lot longer, the current writer will be able to better shape the direction of the plot. Or, if they are suffering from writers' block, slog through five pages of teeth-grinding heck.

I'm not sure how much I should reveal. Hm. Next time Crane should do these "Address the Non-existent Reader" posts. [Hey, Crane just informed me that she's changing the template from dots to something else in honor of the new story. Oh. She finished. Which means I should probably finish this soon, too. Guess what? I also get to start the new story. Yay. Hear the excitement? No, you don't. It's probably because you can't register excitement over the internet without an obscene amount of exclamation points. Nothing to do with sarcasm.

Okay, Crane changed the rules. Minimum 2 pages, tentative max is 5. You can go more if you're feeling insane. Anyways, Crane's gonna add to this post. As soon as I finish. So I will. Now.

~Beads

See how funny she is? That's why I let her do the "Address the Non-existent Reader" posts. But we do have readers. I read our blog almost everyday. :)

Wow, this is the first time I've talked to you guys (assuming we have readers) directly. Hi! How are you? I'm fine. I'm actually really excited about this new story. It should be really fun. Because it doesn't take place in this universe, so anything can happen.

Anyway, we've come up with ideas for this new story, involving mystical creatures, a normal main character, and an awesome dog, whom I shall one day own. Expect a lot of fun fictional craziness, and random stuff that we add just because we're fantasy nerds. Our motto for this story is, "Break the Stereotype!" See how good we do. And comment on the posts. Cuz Beads doesn't think any of you exist. But I know you do. Right? Someone agree with me!

Okay, enough of my ranting to no one. I have to go help Beads write.

~Crane

page 24

I lay in bed two days later, waiting for the soft knock that would announce Cameron and Jeff’s arrival. I glanced at the clock. 2:27. Cameron had said they’d swing by around two-thirty. She probably did not expect that I would expect her to be accurate to a minute. I knew exactly why I was so looking forward to their visit; I had just reread my last book, and I was in no mood for a movie. And I was looking forward to seeing my other friends as well.

“Maggie, honey?” I twitched at the sound of my mother’s voice. She had tried to talk to me a few times during my recuperation, but I found myself giving short, uninformative answers to her questions, such as who Charlotte and Jeff were, and why and when I began to hang out with them. Slowly I felt us drawing apart, an invisible force driving a wedge between us. I knew exactly what it was, but my mom remained blissfully, agonizingly unaware.

“Yeah?” I looked at her face, where small lines had begun to distort her features.
She hesitated, “I’m glad you’re making new friends and everything. But…” she thought carefully, “you seem different for some reason. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

I wondered if I would tell her, even if I could. I shook my head reflexively, “no, mom. Everything’s fine, really.” My voice, light and sincere, flowed out of my mouth before I could think about it.

My mom searched my face for a moment, then sighed, her eyelids drooping slightly. “Alright, honey. Well, if there ever is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

I nodded, “I know. Thanks.”

She withdrew, and I settled back into my bed, relaxing a little. Then I sat up again as I heard the chime of the doorbell echoing up the steps. Moments later, there was a rasping sound as the door dragged over the carpet. There was a moment of faint greetings, then my mom called, “Maggie, Cameron and Jeff are here!”

“Okay,” I called down. I closed my eyes and listened for the tramp of feet. There was the soft, light tread of Cameron, and a slight stumble as Jeff stumbled over his feet. I smiled a little. Jeff would always be bit of a nerd, no matter how much he worked out.

“Hey Maggie,” he said shyly as he followed Cameron in. She plopped down on my bed, careful to avoid my broken leg. Jeff stood next to her.

“Hi Jeff, what’s up?” I turned to Cameron and added dryly, “Long time no see.”
Cameron grinned. “Jeff wanted to see you.”

I turned questioningly to Jeff. He never blushed, but when he was embarrassed, the his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and he blinked rapidly.

Cameron smiled smugly. “I’m going to get some fruit for you,” she told me.

“Wait, what?” I was confused, “I don’t want fruit.”

Cameron shrugged. “Then maybe I’ll eat it.” She got up to leave.

Jeff stopped blinking. “Wait!” He panicked and turned to Cameron. “Don’t leave me!”

I pushed myself off of the pillows, wincing as my weight shifted. “What’s going on?”

I demanded. “Did the monster come back or something?”

Cameron shook her head and shot me a look. “Don’t be silly Maggie.” She turned to Jeff, who now was staring at her in disbelief.

“How did you know?” he demanded. “Was it Andrew?”

Cameron laughed. “I don’t need my brother to know everything.” She told him.

I brightened at his name, “what’s this about Andrew?” I wanted to know. Both Jeff and Cameron ignored me. Jeff stared at Cameron, fists clenched a little.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” he told her. She shrugged, already in the hall.

“You’ll thank me later.” She shut the door behind her. Jeff took a deep breath and turned to face me. He opened his mouth to speak.

page 22

My mom was just behind them. Her hair, usually in a tight bun that accented her sharp features, hung in wisps around her face. She glared slightly at Charlotte. “Are you going to be alright, sweetie?” She wiped away her anger and looked at me, probably a little concerned that Charlotte might accidentally knock me over and shatter me.

I smiled at her, reassuring her that I was at least less fragile than her porcelain vase. “I’ll fine, mom.”

My mom nodded, trusting my judgment, and withdrew.

Once she was gone, Charlotte’s sweet smile faded from her face and she handed me the flowers gravely. “You are very lucky, Maggie.”

Andrew nodded. “If not for Jeff, you may have ended up like Peter.”

Cameron sighed a little. “I told you he was going to be fine.”

I shuddered, remembering that hot, gaping mouth. “Is it…dead?”

Andrew shook his head. “We don’t know. Jeff says he probably died in the burning building, but he also said that it withstood a lot of flames.

I caught my breath. “Where is Jeff?”

“He’s out poking around the wreckage,” said Cameron. “I put a bit of invisibility on him a while ago. He should be back pretty soon.”

I nodded. Then a thought occurred to me. “How did I become un-invisible?” I asked. “Why could the monster see me? And Jeff?”

“Oh.” Cameron looked sheepish. “I lost control. The invisibility came off a little before you screamed.”

“And you weren’t caught?”

“Well, we were,” said Andrew,

“But luckily no one saw us the moment we appeared.” Charlotte finished.

“Oh.” I sat back on my bed, wincing a little as my leg scraped at an uncomfortable angle. “So what now?”

Andrew and Charlotte shrugged. Cameron grinned a little. “We do have a couple of months,” Andrew said slyly. “They found that the fire affected a few of the pipes and stuff. We’ll be free.”

“And now that the monster’s gone…” Charlotte smiled also.

“We can pretty much use our powers whenever, as long as we don’t let regulars see us.” Cameron added. “We could go exploring.”

“Pranking!” whooped Andrew.

“Driving,” suggested Charlotte.

I grinned weakly. “That should be fun.” Part of me was elated, ready to indulge in weeks of mindlessness, no homework, complete freedom and lack of responsibility. But another part of me cringed, remembering the monster. And wondered if it was still alive. Still, it had been trapped inside a burning building. It’s only human, right? Or at least it was once.

“Maggie?” Charlotte’s calm interrupted my growing sense of unease. “You alright?”
I nodded, trying to remember the time when I was blissfully unaware of my powers and the dangers they evoked. “I’m fine,” I said for the second time in ten minutes. I hesitated.

“You’ll just be a lot better when Jeff confirms that the monster is dead?” asked Andrew gently.

I nodded, and looked away, trying not to envy Charlotte again, hoping that my envy would not show on my face. Sometimes, I wondered if Andrew read my mind often. I wondered if he knew.

Did he care?

page 20

Teachers began to take charge, herding people out of the hallways, and towards the cement and grass atrium of the school. The first wails of a siren could be heard in the distance.

“Jeff!” I called into the crowd. A few people glanced curiously my way, but no one responded. I could not catch a glimpse of his flat, brown hair, his thick glasses, or that ridiculous camouflage backpack he liked. I turned back to my friends, “have you guys seen – ?” the look on their faces answered the question for me.

Andrew shook his head. “He’s on his own.” When I looked at him in horror Charlotte put a gentle hand on my shoulder and patted it, “He must have managed. He is more powerful and more resourceful than you think.”

I started forward. Cameron pulled me back. “Are you crazy?” She demanded. “Don’t worry. Jeff’s here. He probably just got separated from us. It’s a big school.”

I looked into her eyes. She half believed what she was saying. I didn’t believe it at all. Jeff was just one table away from mine. I pulled out of her grasp and eyed the nearest teachers, waiting for them to look away. Andrew grabbed my hand. I bit back a gasp, fixed my gaping expression and turned to glare at him. “What?” I snapped.

“You’re not going in there.” He told me.

“But I have to find Jeff.” Months of practicing made it easier for me to whisper, even when I was seething mad.

“Then we shall help you,” Charlotte took my other hand. She turned to Cameron. “Will you do the honors?”

Cameron hesitated, and glanced around us. People were busy chattering amongst themselves or gazing at the enflamed building with glazed eyes. Cameron raised her hand. Instantly, I felt a strange sensation wash over me, as if I had skipped through the sprinklers and a heating panel in a single second. I felt the reassuring squeeze of Charlotte and Andrew on either side of me, and I heard Cameron treading behind. As we cleared the crowd and the last of the teachers, Andrew stopped. “Shoot.”

“Oh dear,” Charlotte added. The firefighters had entered the school. They spread out in a line, spraying at the flames, which had spread to the two adjacent buildings. “We will never make it past the line.”

“Yes we will,” I gritted. I broke free of Charlotte and Andrew, knowing that they would never be able to find me, knowing that I was still invisible, because Cameron could not take off the invisibility without people wondering about my sudden appearance next to the burning building. I ducked under the pressured hose, and dodged the sputtering jet of water that attacked the voracious flames. I entered through the side door of the science room just in time; flames licked along the sides of the doorway. I began to cough. The fumes and smoke of dozens of carcinogenic chemicals filled my nose and eyes. I began to regret running in here so recklessly, but I needed to find Jeff, quickly. A flicker at the corner of my eye caught my attention. A dark figure was crouched by the teacher’s desk, now cracked and crackling.

“Jeff?” I called tentatively. There was a low groan. “Jeff?” I called again. Was he hurt? I picked my way through the smoking tiles, wincing at the suffocating heat. I struggled to wave the smoke away from my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure. When I managed to finally blink away the tears in my reddened eyes, I stopped. He – the figure – was not Jeff. He – it – was something I had never seen before. A head lifted from the rest of its broken and charred body. White – pure, blazing hot white – shaped a crooked, disconnected grin. The gaping hole of a mouth opened, and I gasped as a new wave of heat slammed into me, forcing me backwards. My foot landed awkwardly on a flaming table, and I fell, staring into the mouth of the monster. I felt flames lapping at my ankles, tasting my flesh. I began to scream.

page 18

Three heads (Cameron’s, Jeff’s and mine) whipped towards Charlotte. “You can drive?” We chorused.

“But how?” Cameron stared at her.

“How old are you?” I asked, jealous.

Charlotte smiled serenely. “We are of age, you know.” The rest of us exchanged sheepish glances and muttered affirmation.

“But...you drive yourself to school?” Asked Jeff. Charlotte and Andrew shared a secret smile.

“Come,” Charlotte said, “I shall show you the vehicle that I drive.” Andrew offered her his arm, and she took it. Cameron and Jeff followed after. I sighed and trailed behind. There was a lot of walking involved with today.

We wound through the outdoor corridors of the school, passing a lone custodian making his usual after school rounds, and a few clutches of students who gathered by the library and the tarped cafeteria. We skirted the front parking lot, reserved for staff and visitors, and turned into the strip of dirt that marked the beginning of the student parking lot.

“Um…so where is it?” Cameron scanned the rows of cars.

Charlotte led us past a blue sedan and a large red pickup truck. “Here it is,” she beamed proudly. The car was silver, just a skeleton on wheels, basically. The three seats in the back were metal, covered in a thin layer of cotton sheet, as we discovered when we sat down. The seatbelts, steering wheel, and every other discernable part of the car was also metal.

Jeff blinked at the metal contraption. “Is this safe?”

Charlotte reassured him. “Completely. Please, seat yourself.” He gaped at her for a moment before settling in the seat left of me. After he closed the door and the car locked with a metallic click, Andrew turned around from his place in the passenger seat.

“We can talk freely in this car. I’ve layered multiple shields on it over time, and since Charlotte has complete control over metal, this is pretty much the safest place we can ever find. Away from that monster.” He shuddered.

“Monster?” echoed Jeff.

Charlotte responded by starting the car. It clanked and jingled weakly for a moment, then puttered to life. Andrew eyed Jeff warily. Cameron sighed, “stop being so cryptic and just tell him what you told us. He’s one of us, now.”

I raised my eyebrows. “One of us?”

“Yeah,” Cameron lifted on shoulder. “We have to sort of stick together, right? To be safe from the monster.”

“Monster?” Jeff raised his voice.

“Hold that thought,” said Andrew. “Cameron, remember what I taught you about your powers?” Cameron nodded, “Can you put a small shield on this car? You probably haven’t learned enough about your powers to render the car completely invisible, but at least you could make it less noticeable.” Cameron thought for a while, then closed her eyes. Andrew seemed to take that as an affirmative, and turned his attention back to Jeff, who’s face had gone slightly pale. Andrew repeated, in a condensed version, what he had told us. As he spoke, Jeff’s face slowly returned to its normal shade of pale pink.

“Well,” he commented, blinking slowly, “I don’t know what to say about the monster, but I should tell you, that I didn’t learn to control my powers all by myself. At least, not after the first few weeks. They’re showing up in more people, and there’s a reason for it.”

“And what reason is that?” asked Andrew.

Jeff’s face crumpled a little. “That’s just it. I don’t know. Never got a chance to find out.”

page 16

The teacher guarding the door that we were facing tucked his book under his arm and walked off.

“That’s not a very good guarding system,” Cameron observed.

“Well, it’s good for us,” I muttered.

“Yeah, well, the teachers are pretty annoyed that they have to stay guarding some decrepit door after school hours,” Andrew laughed softly as he crossed the hallway and opened the door.

The room was almost exactly how I had left it. However, the lights, bright white when I turned them on before, had faded to dull yellow-orange. I squinted at them. “Why did they get dimmer?”

“You control pure electricity. Since they are no longer being powered by you, but the school grid, they’ve lost some of their power.” Andrew explained. He shut the door. “The teachers probably won’t bother to check in here. But if they do, we can always hide behind those couches,” he pointed to a couple of sagging, corduroy covered futons. “I’ll give an advanced warning if that happens.” He smiled crookedly.

I pointed at the lights. “Are you going to tell me how to fix this?”

Charlotte stepped forward. “I will do that,” she said, “My powers – metal working – are closer to yours.”

I nodded, waiting for her to begin helping.

“First, you must connect with the lights.” A strange expression flitted over Charlotte’s face as she fought to explain. “The electricity essentially flows through you, as it does through the wires in the wall. So you must learn to direct it.” She stopped.

I waited patiently for a few seconds. “How?”

Charlote smiled mysteriously. “Just try.”

I glanced at Cameron, who shrugged, though her face betrayed her confusion. “This isn’t how you taught Cameron, is it?” I couldn’t imagine her patiently accepting this explanation.

Andrew shook his head. “We taught Cameron differently.”

I sighed, and craned my neck backwards to stare at the lights. They flickered, slightly. Just as my eyes were beginning to water, I felt a jolt in one of my fingers. I jumped, blinked, and kept staring. My ears began to hum, not unlike the mosquito ringtone, or the sound I heard when someone left the t.v. on in the next room. I saw, suddenly, that electricity was all a connected series of particles that flowed together. I saw the patterns that flowed in and out of the lights, creating the thing that was light. It was calming; the energy flowed in and out of the light fixtures like waves on a beach. In. Out. In. Out. I just wanted it to go out. Slowly, little by little less electricity flowed in through the wires and more and more went out.

At the back of my mind I was aware that the light in the room was getting dimmer and dimmer, but my eyes were fixed on the point where electricity was flowing out, and out, and out.

“There.” Charlotte’s contemplative voice echoed hollowly in the dark room. “Well done.”

“Thanks.” I looked back up at where the lights should be, but the energy was gone. All I could see was the static darkness of the isolated room.

“How do you feel?” Andrew asked, his voice rumbling through the quiet.
I thought about it. “Fine, actually.”

“Really? No tiredness, no buzz, nothing?” I could almost feel Andrew raising his eyebrows.

I nodded in the dark, then realized that no one could see. I wonder if this is what Cameron felt like, I wondered, bemused. “Really. I’m fine.”

Chapter 1: Concluded

So we decided belatedly that each chapter would consist of 15 pages. Since Crane posted last, I get the dubious honor of marking the end of chapter 1 with some sort of discussion, as well as writing the first page of chapter 2.

Hm. I think this actually turned out all right. Some odd bits (Maggie's observation of Charlotte's smile is kind of random.) Some good people (Yay to Crane for coming up with such an eccentric Charlotte. I wonder what her parents think of her [Charlotte]) There's a little bit of suspense.

...

I'm not sure what else to say. The word "discussion" is so vague. Especially when you're learning to write essays in school for the first time, and the teacher is like, "okay, first you quote, then you discuss the quote." What is that supposed to mean? Nine year olds do not generally care about universal truths. At least I didn't when I was nine. But I digress.

In any case, this is the end of chapter 1, and the following post will be the begining of chapter 2. I'm pretty sure that you have grasped this concept by now, so I shall go fill my cup with hot water, because I just played a round of golf in the rain and wind and I think I'm starting to get sick. I hope I don't get a fever, because I might faint in P.E. and start rambling in English and stare off contemplatively into space in Imaging while the rest of my group mates are talking about who knows what and meanwhile our powerpoint is still unfinished and I really don't want that to happen. Are cold sweats good? I don't think so. Yeah. I also just had a huge cup of boba and milk tea. So the first page of chapter two might be interesting. Or not. I might crash.

Shoot. I just rambled. And I don't think any of that made sense. Well, at least Crane knows I'm rambling. I'll probably come back later to edit this. Probably not. I'll just leave this up here so whoever stumbles on this page can be like, "oh. Beads is crazy." That's not a good thing?

...

Okay, I'm ending this NOW.

UPDATE:

Yes. Update. I knew I forgot something. Happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. :)

page 14

“Wait…what do you mean, ‘our job’?” Cameron looked at Charlotte quizzically, without any of her former resentment. My eyebrows twitched slightly. That training session must have really changed her.

Charlotte beamed widely at us, though her lips remained pressed together. That’s when I realized: Even in the many times Charlotte had smiled, I had never seen her grin. Was that normal? I shrugged it off mentally. Not everyone smiled the same. “- that’s part of her training,” Charlotte was saying.

I started. “Wait. Who’s training? What?”

Cameron looked at me, exasperated, “weren’t you listening?”

I glanced at Andrew, who had just flicked his puzzled eyes over at me also. He had not been listening. Or he was an amazing actor.

Charlotte was unfazed. “Andrew and I decided, that perhaps the best way to teach you, Maggie, how to control your powers is to have you undo what you did.”

“So…” I felt slightly sick. “I’m going to have to fix the teacher’s lounge? And Mrs. Eacker’s classroom?”

Charlotte nodded solemnly. “We’ll actually start on the teacher’s lounge.”

“But why?” I realized with disgust that my voice had taken on a plaintive edge. “Mrs. Eacker’s classroom is right here….”

“But it’s easier, and safer, to work on turning off the lights first,” Andrew spoke for the first time. “Plus, if you break the bulbs or something, the lights will turn off anyways. No one will know the difference. If you break Mrs. Eacker’s lights, well…there’ll be significantly more trouble.”

“But the janitor’s working on Mrs. Eacker’s lights anyways,” I objected, pointing through the window, where Mr. Friesnor stood on a ladder, arms and head stuck through the ceiling.
Andrew shook his head. “He won’t be able to fix that. What you did, you basically vaporized a bunch of electricity, and dammed up the rest. He’ll give up in about twenty minutes – that’s when he gets off. That should be plenty of time.”

I sighed. I didn’t understand what Cameron found so “freeing” about this training experience. It was work.

“Let’s go,” announced Andrew, not hearing, or ignoring, my last thought.

I trudged after Andrew and Charlotte, next to Cameron. “So,” I called, “hoping to at least gain some knowledge for my efforts. “How did you two meet?”

Cameron’s eyes sharpened.

Andrew and Charlotte exchanged glances. “And how did you two discover your powers?” I added in a slightly softer voice. Still, Charlotte and Andrew stopped and scanned our surroundings for a few seconds before proceeding.

After more moments of silence, Charlotte ventured, in a quiet voice, “do not talk about these things so publicly, Maggie.”

“Relax, there was no one there.”

There was another pause. Charlotte’s voice went even quieter, so that I almost did not catch her response, “not everything is as it seems.”

I shivered, because Charlotte’s ominous tone dripped with paranoia. “What do you mean?” Cameron asked, hushed, and fully focused on the discussion.

Andrew and Charlotte once again exchanged glances. “This probably isn’t the best place to talk,” Charlotte told us, “but there is one thing that you two need to realize now. We cannot talk freely about…what we have…even when we think we’re fully alone. Because sometimes we are not. Sometimes there are people…things…watching us…listening to us.”

page 12

“I guess we’ll see.” I glanced as the clock, which was ticking away at ten minutes to the bell.

Cameron laughed softly, “I can’t believe you’re worried about your essay grade when we just discovered that we have powers,” she said this in a hushed voice. “Andrew said that there’s no telling how much we can do with them. Even he and Charlotte don’t know a lot about it.”

I cupped my chin in my hands, half-listening to Mrs. Eacker chatter about the logistics of essay writing. “Yeah, well, I’m one point away from an A, so…” I shut my mouth. Mrs. Eacker had finished with her discussion and was now making for the stack of essays. Everyone in the room sat up straighter, eyes intent.

I glanced to my left. Even Cameron watched Mrs. Eacker begin to pass out papers intensely. I flicked my eyes back to Mrs. Eacker, who was only one row away. I clenched my fists against my thighs. Please, please. I thought. I want an A, a high A, preferably, but a 95 could raise my grade too. Please…

Mrs. Eacker was at my desk. She reached for the paper, my paper. She was slow, too slow. The lights in the room flickered, but I didn’t notice. I was waiting.

The paper plopped onto my desk, and as Mrs. Eacker moved on, I snatched it up eagerly in my hands. My ears buzzed with excitement. I looked down at my essay. In Mrs. Eacker’s sprawling handwriting was 95%. Yes!

The adrenaline stored in my system went nuts. That’s when there was an audible crackle. Then the lights went out at once. Several girls screamed, and someone, probably Ethan, the class clown, yelled, “Holy shit!”

We waited, but the lights did not come back on. A think trickle of sun fell on the back of the classroom from the lone window that neither opened nor let in sufficient light. As Mrs. Eacker sent someone out to find the janitor, I felt Cameron’s eyes on me. I flushed slightly. First the teacher’s lounge, then this? I sighed. At least I had an A in English….

Mrs. Eacker quickly and efficiently calmed the class down. She led us out into the hallway where she distributed the rest of the essays and let us chat quietly amongst ourselves. However, we generally failed at keeping our voices down, and the last five minutes of class became a very loud sharing of essay grades. The neighboring teachers gave us dirty looks before slamming the doors of their own, light filled classrooms.

Mrs. Eacker just shook her head and began to read.

Fortunately, that meant that everyone was too busy to pay attention to our discussion.

“Hey, I got an A,” I said weakly, holding up my paper for Cameron to see.

She grinned at me. “Nice.”

“What did you get?”

She shrugged, holding up her own essay, “88.”

“Ah.”

“But that’s not the point!” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was listening. No one was. “I’m really glad you’re having your training in a few minutes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I gave her a look.

Cameron sighed, “no offense, but apparently you’re kind of like electricity girl, and if you can’t control your powers…what if next time it’s not just randomly affecting the lights? What if it’s during a lightning storm, and you call the electricity to someone? Or you shock someone from a plug.”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” I grumbled, not really upset. “I’m dangerous.” Cameron looked apologetic. I shrugged. “I’m just glad that we have Andrew and Charlotte to help us. They probably had to figure this out themselves. Did you ever ask them how they did it?”