LITMIR.BIZ

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Marrok rode on a Sandseed horse the protection didn’t attack him and we were able to ride all night. Kiki finally stopped for a rest at sunrise.

      While Leif collected firewood, I rubbed the horses down and fed them. Marrok helped Leif, but I could see exhaustion etched in his pale face.

      The rain and sleet had slowed during the night, but gray clouds sealed the sky. Our campsite had plenty of grass for the horses. It was on a high spot in the plains next to a rocky outcropping with a few scrub trees growing nearby, and was a solid place for us to stand without sinking ankle-deep into the mud.

      Our cloaks were soaked, so I tied my rope between two trees to hang the wet garments. Leif and Marrok found a few dry branches. Making a tent of the twigs, Leif stared at the wood and small flames sprang to life.

      “Show-off,” I said.

      He smiled as he filled a pot with water for tea. “You’re jealous.”

      “You’re right. I am.” I growled in frustration. Leif and I were both born to the same parents, yet we had different magical powers. Our father, Esau, had no overt magic, just a flair for finding and using the plants and trees of the jungle for food, medicines and his inventions. Perl, our mother, could only sense if a person had magical abilities.

      So how did Leif get the magical abilities to light fires and sense a person’s life force while I could affect their souls? With my magic, I could force Leif to light a fire, but couldn’t do it on my own. I wondered if anyone in Sitian history had studied the relationship between magic and birth parents. Bain Bloodgood, Second Magician, would probably know. He owned a copy of almost every book in Sitia.

      Marrok fell asleep as soon as we finished eating our breakfast of bread and cheese. Leif and I remained by the fire.

      “Did you put something in his tea?” I asked.

      “Some fiddlewood bark to help him heal.”

      Wrinkles and scars lined Marrok’s face. Through the yellowed bruises along his jaw, I spotted some white stubble. His swollen eye oozed blood and tears. Red streaks painted his right cheek. Healer Hayes hadn’t allowed me to help with Marrok’s recovery. He had only let me assist with minor injuries. Another who feared my powers.

      I touched Marrok’s forehead. His skin felt hot and dry. The fetid smell of rotten flesh emanated from him. I reached for the power source and felt the Sandseeds’ protective magic watching me for signs of threat. Gathering magic, I projected a thread to him, revealing the muscles and bone underneath Marrok’s skin. His injuries pulsed with a red light. His cheekbone had been shattered and some bone fragments had gotten into his eye, affecting his vision. Small dark growths of an infection dotted the ruined area.

      I concentrated on the injury until his pain transferred to my own face. A sharp needle of pain stabbed my right eye as my vision dulled and tears welled. Curling into a ball, I pushed against the onslaught, channeling the magic from the power source through my body. The flow chugged, and I strained. All of a sudden the current of magic moved with ease as if someone had removed a beaver’s dam, washing away the pain. Relief swept through me. I relaxed.

      “Do you think that was a good idea?” Leif asked when I opened my eyes.

      “The wound was infected.”

      “But you used all your energy.”

      “I …” I sat up, feeling tired but not exhausted. “I—”

      “Had help,” a voice snapped out of nowhere.

      Leif jerked upright in surprise, but I recognized the deep masculine tone. Moon Man appeared next to the fire as if he had formed from the rising heat and ashes. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight.

      In deference to the chill, Moon Man wore a long-sleeved tan tunic and dark brown pants that matched the color of his skin, but no shoes.

      “No paint?” I asked Moon Man. The first time I had met him he had coalesced out of a beam of moonlight covered only with indigo dye. He had claimed to be my Story Weaver and proceeded to show me my life’s story and unlocked my childhood memories. Six years of living with my mother, father and brother had been suppressed by a magician named Mogkan so I wouldn’t long for my family after Mogkan had kidnapped me.

      Moon Man smiled. “I did not have time to cover my skin. And it is a good thing I came when I did.” His tone conveyed his displeasure. “Or you would have spent all your strength.”

      “Not all,” I countered, sounding like a belligerent child.

      “Have you become an all-powerful Soulfinder already?” He widened his eyes in mock amazement. “I will bow down before you, Oh Great One.” He bent at the waist.

      “All right, enough,” I said, laughing. “I should have thought it through before healing Marrok. Happy now?”

      He sighed dramatically. “I would be content if I thought you learned a lesson and would not do it again. However, I am well aware that you will continue to rush right into situations. It is weaved into your life’s pattern. There is no hope for you.”

      “Is that why you sent for me? To tell me I’m hopeless?”

      Moon Man sobered. “I wish. We had heard that the Soulstealer had escaped from the Magician’s Keep with Cahil’s help. One of our Story Weavers scouting in the Daviian Plateau sensed a stranger traveling with one of the Vermin.”

      “Are Cahil and Ferde in the plateau?” Leif asked.

      “We think so, but we want Yelena to identify the Soulstealer.”

      “Why?” I asked. The Sandseeds didn’t waste time on trials and incarceration. They executed criminals on capture.

      However, the Daviian Vermin had been very hard to find, and they had powerful magicians. The Vermin were a group of Sandseed youths who had become discontented with the Sandseed lifestyle of keeping to themselves and limiting contact with the other clans. The Vermin wanted the Sandseed Story Weavers to use their great powers to guide all of Sitia and not just the inhabitants of the plains.

      They had broken from the Sandseed Clan and settled in the Daviian Plateau, becoming the Daviian Clan. The plateau’s dry and inhospitable soil made farming a nightmare, so the Daviians stole from the Sandseeds, and earned the nickname of Vermin. The Sandseeds also referred to the Vermin’s magicians as Warpers, since they used their magic for selfish reasons.

      “You need to identify the Soulstealer because he may have harvested more souls, and only you can release those souls before we kill him,” Moon Man said with a flat and emotionless voice.

      I grabbed his arm. “Have you found any bodies?”

      “No. But I am concerned about what we will discover when we raid their camp.”

      The horror of the last two seasons threatened to overwhelm me. Eleven girls mutilated and raped by Ferde so he could steal their souls and gain more magical power. Valek and I had stopped him before he could collect the final soul. If he had succeeded, Sitia and Ixia would now be his to rule. Instead, I had released all those souls to the sky. To think that he might have started again was unbearable.

      “You’ve found their camp?” Leif asked.

      “Yes. We put our lives on hold,” Moon Man said. “The warriors of the clan have done a complete sweep of the plateau. We found a large encampment on the southern edge near the border of the Illiais Jungle.”

      And close to my family. I must have gasped because Moon Man touched my shoulder and squeezed.

      “Do not worry about your clan. Every Sandseed warrior is ready to attack if the Vermin show any signs of departing their camp. We will leave when the horses are rested.”

      I paced around the campfire, knowing I should get some sleep but unable to still my racing thoughts. Leif groomed the horses and Marrok slept. Moon Man reclined next to the fire, staring at the sky.

      Marrok woke as the sky darkened.

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