My knees clack like stones into the hardwood floor of the indoor gymnasium as I barely make it off of the center square to the tin pail set in the corner. As my stomach seizes, I vomit for the third time in the last two days, barely enough strength left in my arms to hold the pail. After nearly a minute, my entire torso crunching in muscle spasms, I continue to hold the pail, looking down at the misery inside. Still not confident enough to put the pail down, fearing that the second I do I will spew all over Arabella’s nice floors and incur some secret penalty from the woman, I spit the bile out of my mouth. After our lunch the day before, she has been liberal in giving out some creative punishments for any minor infraction she finds. After another minute, I feel the weakness in my arms start to wane and my body comes back under my control, though my head is still lighter than air.
I set the pail aside just off the center exercise square, a not entirely comfortable set of four thick square rugs stacked on top of each other in the middle of the gymnasium. Each of the rugs is twenty feet on a side. I fall to my back, my heart still pounding in my ears, and try to calm my breathing. Staring up at the ceiling, I feel the vibrations of the others through the floor of the gymnasium and watch, upside down, as Kendon, Macille, and Jor’Mari continue their circuit of the room. They’ve been at it for more than an hour, but none of the boys show any sign of their strength flagging. Jor’Mari is a beast of a man, like I first guessed, slowing every so often to allow Kendon to catch up to him, only to explode forward on tireless legs, smirking as he leaves the other two behind for a few laps.
Coriander sits on the mat opposite me, nursing a glass of water as she watches the boys’ competition with bitterness in her eyes. I can’t begrudge her too much for it. I had thought that making it to the first rank might have put my strength and stamina on a similar level to men, but that decidedly does not seem to be the case. It’s a small disappointment, but it still lingers.
“Ms. Devardem.” My eyes drift sideways, finding Mr. Mason standing over me with a glass of water held out to me. Despite my stomach, I heave myself up to sit and drink the water.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“It is what I am here for. Have you completed your assigned exercises for the day?”
I follow the man’s gaze to a blackboard at the end of the gymnasium that looks ancient enough to have been pulled straight out of a church schoolroom. Each of our names is written on the board, below is a list of exercises we have been assigned by Arabella Willian directly. The words, “Failure to complete assigned activities shall result in penalties,” glow in threatening red at the bottom of the board. I am the only person that has bothered to return to the board each time I have completed my assigned task to mark a new one off.
I raise my eyebrows at the man; it takes less energy than answering the question. He can see as plainly as I can that each of the tasks has been checked off. Well, aside from the running. Once I can feel my feet again, I’ll go check that one off.
“I felt it polite to ask,” Mr. Mason explains to my raised eyebrows. “I’ll know better in the future. When you have cleaned yourself, Ms. Willian is expecting you and Mr. Esfelle in her study, I assume you know the way.”
I look at the two elven men trying, and failing, to catch Jor’Mari in their circuits around the room. All of the boys completed their tasks more than half an hour ago. They must run on pure stubbornness and competitiveness. “Which one?”
“The younger,” Mr. Mason says.
“Is that Macille?”
“Yes, it is.”
I look up at Mr. Mason again, trying to scrutinize his ember eyes. A rank two perception is still not enough to read the man. “You must be dead set on not mentioning anyone’s first name.”
“I have not been given the leave,” he says. He sets another pail down on the mat, this one full of crystal water. “I trust you have found the baths by now.”
“I have,” I say. I spent more than an hour in the gold-plated tub yesterday after that terrible lunch. I push aside the memory of what put me into that water, shivering, and choking down sobs that kept trying to come up out of me.
“Then I shall draw each of you a bath.” Delivering a perfect bow, the man turns on a heel and walks out of the gymnasium.
I look back across the mat to find Coriander studying me. The woman’s harsh orange eyes send a shiver down my spine, and I lever myself to my feet just to get away from them. I mark off my running task on the board, 5 miles, a hundred circuits around the room, before grabbing Macille’s arm as he comes jogging past me on his circuit. The man is so heavy that he almost pulls me off his feet when I grab ahold of him.
“Arabella is waiting for us,” I tell him.
“Oh,” he says. The man doesn’t even have the good manners to look winded from his run. “Right now?”
I shrug at him. When I step away to walk toward the door to the gymnasium, the smell of sweet apples chases me, the man doesn’t even smell when he is soaked in sweat. If anything, he smells even better. “I’m going to bathe first.”
I realize that I can still smell the man even when I’m all the way to the door, him trailing a good distance behind me. I wonder if my sense of smell has been heightened by my new, magical perception; then wonder how that would even make sense given that the increased perception is granted me by my eye. Maybe I should take Halford’s example and start reading up on magic in church libraries. The idea of studying sours my stomach.
My tiredness must be catching up with me. I don’t even realize that Macille is still following along behind me until I am standing over a steaming tub of water and hear the slap of a sweat-soaked shirt hitting the tiles behind me. I turn to see him there, bare-chested, working the string of his trousers as he stands over his steaming tub.
“What are you doing!” I shriek at him.
He looks up at me, confused for a second, and then, as if a huge wheel comes unstuck in his head, realization dawns in his eyes. “Ah. Right.” He leaves his trousers unlaced as he walks to the wall and grabs a privacy screen to set between us. “Better?” he asks from behind the screen.
“Do you have to be in here now?” I ask, watching his shadowy silhouette continue to move on the backdrop of the white-lace screen.
“You can wait outside for me to finish if you like,” he says. I hear him slip into the tub with a sigh.
“I was in here first.” I sit on the edge of the tub, dabbing a finger into the warm water.
“I did more work,” he responds. “Besides, I’m already in. If your human sensibilities are causing you issue, I would ask that you do not make that my problem.”
“I thought you were supposed to be the courteous brother.”
“I’m tired,” he says.
“So, your manners are fair-weather then.”
I hear him groan on the other side of the screen. “I suppose so.” There is a splash as he sinks beneath the surface of the water. I don’t know how long the man can avoid me by holding his breath, but I guess that it is longer than I am willing to wait, given that the warm bath is just behind me.
I sigh. A gilded stool sits next to the gilded tub, upon which is a tidy bundle of my clothing. My will crumbles in seconds, and I strip myself before sliding down into the welcoming water. The bath is hot and perfect.
Arabella’s office is the same as when I was first escorted into it; two leather sofas facing each other across a heavy slab of limestone turned into a table. Arabella sits alone, her ice clones vanished, and before her, on the table, rests a square silver dish more than a foot on any side.
I sense disappointment from the woman as we enter. Macille remembering his proper elven manners bows before entering. Without a word, she motions to the sofa in front of her, where I sit, Macille joining me by sitting on the arm of the sofa. Arabella lets us stew in silence for a long moment, and I watch as first, her soul presence glides away from her to wrap around Macille; the man doesn’t seem to notice. The cloud of wintery light swims to me next, and when it surrounds me and presses against my skin, I don’t feel the cold bite that it had in the restaurant. After a moment, the soul presence retreats to Arabella.
“First thing is first,” Arabella says, lifting a rolled paper scroll from the sofa next to her and holding it out to me. “I have petitioned Lord Timmian on your behalf and managed to secure a permit for roaming rights.”
As she hands the paper to me, I unroll it to read the flowing elven letters written on the page. I haven’t the first idea of how to decipher the language, all of the kingdom’s official documents are written in it, and they don’t teach the high language to people like me. At the bottom of the page is a signature. I don’t doubt Arabella that it is Lord Timmian’s.
“You had not yet received such a permit?” Macille asks as he reads the paper over my shoulder. “You should be grateful to Ms. Willian. I doubt you would want to begin your adventuring life unable to return home due to breaking the law.”
I roll the paper back up and tuck it away where the man cannot see it. “I never planned to,” I say.
“Yes,” Arabella says flatly. “Wouldn’t want to break any laws, would we.” I see further disappointment in her eyes, and the look lingers a little too long on Macille before her face brightens. “Tell me, how are you two getting along.”
“Fine, I suppose,” I say. “We haven’t spent all that much time together.”
“I find Ms. Devardem enchanting if I am being honest,” Macille says. I turn and look at the man, confused. “Her folksy mannerisms are a fresh relief from what I had to deal with in my previous team.”
“You are not a team,” Arabella says, holding up a finger. “I feel it important to make that clear now, at the outset. If in the future you choose to cooperate, that is your choice, but you are under no official requirement to do so. The rules of this upcoming competition are very clear on that point.”
“Now that you mention competition,” I say, looking at Macille, “you were in the last one, weren’t you? How did your team do?”
Macille’s expression shifts from cheery to placid. “Not so well as your own, I am afraid. One of our members disappeared in the middle of the contest. She did not survive.” There is something odd in his voice, a hitch. He clears his throat and puts on his cheery face once again. “I heard secondhand that it was your brother who slew the competition beast. Waiting to cross the threshold into the second rank after the competition had already begun, a shrewd and clever strategy. I do not begrudge him for it. Were I able, I likely would have done the same.”
“Luckily, you are not near to the second rank,” Arabella says, leaning forward.
A flash of shame washes over Macille’s features and I feel a bit bad for him. When I look back at Arabella, she is stroking her hands as she looks down at the silver dish before her.
“Neither of you are,” she purrs. “That is fine. You shall both advance toward the second rank, though you will not reach it by the time that the next contest begins. That is a good thing. I would not permit you to surpass that threshold even if you were close to it.”
“That is a rule of this contest as well,” I guess.
Arabella smiles at me. “Clever. Yes, just like the one I held in this little town. Only rank one magicians are allowed to take part. There is reason for that. Perhaps you will be clever enough to figure that out. Now, you were both able to complete the exercises that I assigned you today, were you not?”
“We were,” Macille answers for me.
“Fantastic. After a week or so of doing these given tasks, I will individualize the regimens for each of you. After all, most of you will not be fighting the same way. There is no need for you to train the same way. Trust me, you will miss how easy this first week was by the end.”
I feel a hot pressure building in my legs that tells me how sore I will be tomorrow. I had never thought of myself as out of shape. While I didn’t follow my brother’s workouts, I did manage to keep up with his team while they went out on their assignments. The fact that Arabella wishes for us to do even more intense training makes me worry about whatever this mysterious contest she has planned for us.
“Does the Willian guild do anything other than hold contests?” I ask.
Arabella favors me with a smile. “Let us review your performance.” With a wave of her hand, color seeps into the silver tray in the center of the table, until it is as full of life as a window. I see myself through the window in the table, Macille is there next to me, standing inside of a large stone room barely lit by four braziers. I watch, clenching my fingers to keep them from trembling, as the Desert Spearman falls from the ceiling and begins to slaughter us. The window in the table gives off sound as well as showing us the events over again. I hear the mandibles of the monster crunch down on my skull and watch my own body fall headless to the ground. My mind is far away from my own body, the only things I can feel are the heat of my blood and the cold sweat of terror. The scene continues.
Macille squirms, panicked, pinned to the wall by the barbed spear the monster shot through him. His fingers scratch and rake over the piece of chitin that holds him up against the wall, screaming as the monster turns and precariously walks over to him. It doesn’t finish him like it did to me. The Desert Spearman reaches a clawed appendage up and snaps Macille’s leg off like it was a twig, bringing it back to its mouth to nibble on. Before I can see how long the torture goes on for, Arabella waves her hand again and the silver of the tray returns, perfectly opaque.
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“Horrible creatures,” Arabella says of the Desert Spearman. “They are quite common in Gilead, where I grew up. Every year the desert creeps closer into the habitable lands and along with it come the monsters that call the sands their homes. They are called Desert Spearman.” The way she looks at me when she announces the monster’s name lets me know that it is only for Macille’s edification. “While they prefer the sand, they will bury themselves in dirt or mud as well. They strike from beneath the ground with the spears on their tails. Not much can survive being harpooned, but they do not mind so much if their prey is still squirming when they catch it.”
Her voice turns harsh. She stares at Macille for a long while, and I notice that he is sweating, his usually pale skin stark white. I feel heat on the back of my neck, and I can’t seem to stop swallowing despite how dry my mouth is. She looks at me as well before continuing. “That is how predators tend to operate in the wild. When animals catch their prey, they seldom care to make certain that it is dead before they begin to eat it. Monsters are the same way. You may think me cruel for trapping the both of you in an illusion, facing a rank two monster. You may think that I am callous, but I am the opposite. I have seen teammates die at the hands of monsters, friends die. At night, sometimes I still hear them scream as they are torn apart while I am powerless to stop it. There is a fear that can come over you when you see what one of the real monsters will do to your friend, and that fear will get you killed.
“I am going to continue to place you in these scenarios. I need you to inure yourself to fear, to recognize its touch, but not allow it to seize your heart. I am also going to make you fight monsters above your rank in an environment where I am in complete control. It isn’t the same as the real thing, but it is going to benefit you. Almost all of you failed this initial assessment of your abilities and were killed by the monsters I threw at you. We need to do better.”
Arabella passes her hand over the silver dish once again and the window showing our fight with the Desert Spearman returns. “Now, tell me, what did you do wrong?”
She makes us watch our struggle against the monster over and over again until I no longer need to clench my fingers into a fist to stand it. Viewed from outside, it is impossible for me to rationalize my actions in the illusion. I only had a few hours of practice my magic before I was thrown against the monster, and everything I do against it looks amateurish and pitiful. I can hardly do anything more than agree with all of the points Arabella makes about how I messed up. Arabella is more even-handed with Macille, noting that he made a few good choices early on, but that dropping his guard against the monster, even for a bare moment, proved lethal to him.
After more than an hour of looking at the illusionary battle over and over again, I feel like I can finally watch it without feeling fear paralyzing my lungs. It was good, I think, to have to face that reality again.
“Any questions?” Arabella asks as she dismisses the image.
We have spent so long studying the images that I am surprised at the abrupt ending. “Only one,” I say.
“Go on.”
“You said that almost all of us failed. Does that mean that someone succeeded?” I ask.
“Yes. Jor’Mari managed to kill the monster I pitted against him. He took a mortal wound in the exchange. Still, he made a good showing of himself.”
Macille looks like he wants to say something about the man, but merely clicks his tongue in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“Now, are you two ready to face another opponent?” Arabella asks, clapping her hands together.
“Now?” Macille gasps.
“Yes,” I say at the same time.
“Good,” Arabella says, nodding to me. “These don’t take very long, so we can get a few done today.” Without another word, I watch magic explode away from her fingers to wash over the two of us.
The late afternoon in Westgrove is like the slow dying of the wind; the noise fades as the activity of people and places dwindles away with the approach of night. I stand on the road just inside of a line where cobblestone tapers into dirt, the place that marks the edge of the town. Halford has his team assembled before me. Kapin scuffs his boot in the dirt, the heavy pack on his back bulging with all his worldly supplies. Jellian crouches not far behind him, digging through his own pack to make certain that he has everything for the upcoming journey.
“You’re leaving for Vale then,” I say to Halford. My brother looks down at me with conflict clear on his face.
“We need to at some point,” he answers. He sighs, glancing back at his best friend who won’t look up to meet our eyes. “I think it is best not to delay too long about it. We don’t know many people there, best to get started with that leg of our adventure as soon as possible.”
“You’re certain you don’t wish to join us?” Bali asks me. I can see tears in her eyes, but the big woman refuses to let any fall. “With the power you have now, you would be an even more valuable member. All the team has is me for harming enemies with magic and I was never really good at that.”
“You will be,” Halford says.
“I have to go another way,” I tell Bali. “I signed a contract.”
Bali rolls her eyes and blows a lock of hair out of her face. “People break contracts all the time. You’re probably not even a real adventurer until you do.”
“That feels like the opposite of what an adventurer should think,” I say.
Without another word, Bali steps forward and wraps me in a vice-like hug. Just a few days before, I would have been tapping her back to get out of it, but today I return the gesture with all my strength. I feel her shudder in my arms. She pulls away, smiling at me without any sadness. “I’m going to miss you, glowbug,” she says, gripping my shoulder.
“Didn’t you hear, I am a dragon now.” I feel tears starting to mist my own eyes. Sniffing I turn and wipe them away.
“Little dragon, then,” Bali says.
“You’re really going then, Charlie,” I hear Kapin say. When I turn back to the group he is standing there, looking at me, conflicted. “I thought it would take a bit longer before your brother’s horseshit finally drove you away.”
Halford gives his friend a punch on the arm that sounds a lot more serious than Kapin plays it off to be. Kapin rubs his shoulder and smiles back at me.
“I’ve been dealing with his horseshit for years now,” I say. “You overestimated me.”
“Nah.” Kapin steps forward and wraps me in a hug that is too gentle for the big man. I return the hug, cutting off more tears as I bury my face into Kapin’s chest. My own feelings catch me a bit off guard, but I realize as we are parting that this man really is like a brother to me. I have known him for as long as I can remember. “You’re the strongest woman I know,” he tells me.
“Thanks, Kap,” I say. I take a long, steading breath before I am ready to let him go and step away. When I look up at him, I see tears on his face, and that almost makes me break down then and there.
“Sorry,” he says, sniffing and rubbing at his face. “I’ve never been good with goodbyes.”
Bali pats Kapin on the back, smiling. “Let’s give these two some space,” she says. Putting her hand on the small of Kapin’s back, leading him away. “We will see you again,” Bali tells me over her shoulder as she walks. “I know it.”
Kapin waves back to me over his own shoulder, but he doesn’t say another word. I look at Halford. My brother stands with arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. He lets out a long breath before flashing me a smile that I’m sure would make other girls swoon. “You’re prepared for what you have ahead?” he asks.
“I don’t honestly know,” I say. “Ms. Willian has made it clear that she expects a lot from me. She expects me to compete with nobles and experienced adventurers when I haven’t even had my powers for a few days. I don’t know how I am going to keep up with people that have real talent.”
“By outworking them,” Halford tells me. “I went to Vale a lot in the past. I spoke with adventurers of the third rank often, and that is what they told me to do, every single one of them. Talent doesn’t matter for shit if you don’t work at improving. Show them all that no one will work as hard as you do, and even if you don’t catch up to them quickly, you should at least earn some respect.”
“You just can’t stop giving advice,” I say.
“That is what big brothers are for.”
“Thank you.” I step forward quickly, wrapping Halford up and seeming to catch him off guard. After a second, he gingerly puts his own arms around me. We break off the hug quickly; I know Halford feels awkward about it. “Can you deliver this to Dad when you pass home on the way to Vale.” I produce a sealed envelope and hold it out to him.
Halford takes the envelope, tucking it inside of his battle robe. “Just for Dad?”
“It outlines everything I am doing,” I say. “I think he will take it better than Mom will.”
“Maybe, though, I think Dad was wanting you to take over the orchard since a decade’s worth of bullying failed to get me or Corinth to do it,” he says.
“Mom and Dad are essentia magicians now. They will probably be able to work the orchard for another hundred years.”
“A hundred years…” Halford strokes the stubble on his chin. I notice he hasn’t bothered shaving for a few days now. “How many more siblings do you think we will get now? I’m pretty sure you were going to be the last, but now…”
“Halford, do not talk to me about Mom and Dad making more siblings,” I say.
“When I came to pick you up last time, I got the feeling that they were trying for another. It must be nice to have strong rank one bodies when you are in your fifties.” I gag and watch Halford smile, eliciting the reaction he wanted. “Seriously, Charlie, look out for yourself. Don’t assume that people have your best interests in mind, especially the nobles. The younger they are, the crueler they can be.”
I look back at my brother, confused why he would say that, but just to nod. “I will be.”
Halford surprises me by stepping forward and clasping me in a second hug that lasts for only a moment. “Three years,” he says to me as he steps away once again.
“Three years,” I repeat.
Halford kicks off the ground, using his incredible strength to soar backward through the air for twenty feet before landing on the dirt road with a grace that doesn’t kick up even a loose pebble. I shake my head at the man. Jellian finally stands from where he is digging through his pack. The man looks at me, nodding his beautiful face my way, and I return the gesture.
“Let’s get going then,” Halford says to them.
Bali and Kapin send me a wave as they start their walk down the road, but Halford never turns back. We both know that we will see each other again, but something tells me that it won’t be for a long while. The group of four disappears past the horizon as I watch their long plod into the orange light of the setting sun. I feel an unsteadiness in my chest. I calm it with a few long breaths before I turn to make my way back toward Arabella Willian’s manor. The sun is long set as I wind through the sleeping town, only the occasional patrolling guardsman and streetlamp to keep me company. Despite the clouds covering the glow of the stars overhead, I don’t have the least bit of trouble seeing in the gloom of dusk. I have my new eyes to thank for that.
I find the mansion, sitting sprawled upon a well kempt lawn, but with more activity going on than the rest of Westgrove. Mr. Mason, holding a lantern and learning down to inspect the area where the front lawn meets the street, turns as I approach, the heels of my new shoes clicking against the cobblestones.
“You have returned,” he says, holding up the lantern to cast its light over me.
“What is all this?” I ask, motioning to the activity in the yard. Other than Mr. Mason, at least six ice clones of Arabella Willian move about the yard, the fingers on each of their right hands alright with magic, lavender in color. When the clones point their fingers down toward the line of well kempt grass that separates the estate from the street and the ones to either side, a mystical runework appears, glowing from up from the ground beneath the grass. The symbols that light up form an intricate pattern that is impossible for me to discern the meaning of.
“Preparations,” Arabella Willian says. She walks out of the darkness, my enhanced vision completely unable to perceive her until she chooses to announce herself. Mr. Mason bows to the woman and steps back to allow her to greet me as I stop before the manor’s drive. “Did you see your brother and your friends off?”
“Preparations for what?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“You shall see in not too long,” Arabella says. “How was your farewell?” she asks again.
“It was…good, I think.” Honestly, I still didn’t know how I felt about how I left things with them. If what Arabella promised me was correct, I wouldn’t see any of them for at least three years, maybe even longer. Still, I think I should be sadder. Maybe I feel alright because I am too excited about learning from Arabella. I will miss my parents though. Dad’s birthday isn’t that far away.
“Good,” Arabella says. She motions for me to join her, and I follow the woman back to the front stoop of the manor. “We will wait here for the others to arrive.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking at the clones of Arabella that continue to walk around the perimeter of the manor, casting runes into the ground around the house.
“That is a surprise,” Arabella answers. “You stand on the threshold of a new life now. By tomorrow there will be no turning back. Do you regret that?”
“No,” I answer instantly.
Halford had been right; I needed to figure out what to do with my life. Standing next to Arabella, watching the ice clones cast their magic, I know that I am taking a step in the right direction. At least I have a plan. A plan set out for my by someone else, yes, but it is a direction in my life. High rank magicians have practically no limits in the kingdom, so if I can accomplish what Arabella wishes of me, neither will I. After I achieve rank three, then I can worry about what I want to do.
We wait on the front porch for a while longer. After half an hour, the ice clones are continuing their work, and I see Kendon and Macille walking down the street in our direction, bulging bags on their backs and wearing their full sets of armor. It is probably just the easiest way to transport it. I wave to them before they walk up and exchange pleasantries with Arabella. They have said their own goodbyes as well it would seem.
Jor’Mari joins us eventually, not saying a word to anyone in our small cluster and preferring to stick to the back of the front stoop, leaning against one of the stone columns holding up the front facade. The ice clones finish their work. The entire edge of the manor’s perimeter is aglow now with lavender colored runework. The clones step back and melt into puddles of lifeless water in the grass.
“We may as well commence,” Arabella says, stepping off the front porch to go stand in the middle of the walkway leading up to the house.
“Are we not waiting on Lady Mel’Draven?” I ask.
“She has already seen this.” It is Jor’Mari who answers behind me.
“Seen what?” I ask him.
He smiles slyly my way with his sharpened teeth but doesn’t answer. Arabella has already turned away, spreading her arms out wide. I watch as the wintery veil of Arabella’s soul presence rolls off her in a wave, and I brace myself as the flood of color approaches and washes over me, through me. It does not bring the sensation of freezing along with it. In fact, I can’t feel it at all. I watch as the air around me changes to that solid color of winter blue. Arabella casts her soul presence out until from where I stand it looks as if it might cover the whole world.
The woman standing in the middle of the yard bends her knees in a crouch, and as she stands again, I can see her outstretched arms struggle as if against an impossible weight. At the same time, the earth beneath our feet and the manor shakes. My feet push against the ground that rockets into the air as Arabella stands all the way up once more. I feel five times heavier and need to grab the pillar closest to me to keep my legs from buckling. Kendon has more trouble in his heavy armor, both his knees giving out as the ground below us soars into the sky, collapsing to both of his knees and bracing himself with a hand on the ground.
“Wha…” I hear him wheeze.
Macille says something to his brother, but I don’t hear it as I watch the clouds overhead rush toward us as if we were falling in reverse. Some primal fear leaps up from the depths of me, grabbing my belly and strangling my throat, and I tense at the impossible sensation of an incoming collision. I wince when the top of the building pierces through the first cloud. Not a second later the white smoke is passing over me, sapping the heat out of my bones as the entire manor house races through them.
In the next instant, we are out of the clouds. Moonlight sparkles down upon us as we stand on the landing, bright enough now to see by almost as if it were day. The rocketing ground beneath our feet slows to a stop in almost an instant, and if I weren’t already gripping the column next to me right, I think my feet might leave the ground. A moment of serene stillness falls over us. I stare, awe overtaking me, out at a landscape of snowy-white clouds that expand out from the edge of the manor’s lawn into the horizon. The light that bounces off the top of the clouds reminds me of winter morning. Arabella turns back toward us, chest heaving from her efforts and sweat standing out on her skin. As always, her impossible, effervescent hair waves in the air, but now it does so in the breeze that exists up here above the clouds, cold and beautiful.
“I may…have neglected to inform…you,” Arabella says. She takes a moment and her breathing evens out, as if she only needed the barest concentration to stop her own racing heart. “This is the flying ship: The Manor of Gacious Moor. It will fly us to our destination.”
I watch as my breath puffs in the air in front of my face. There is so much to say, but I can’t think of any of it. I see the two elven brothers with me on the porch are equally speechless. I can’t tear my eyes off of Arabella. What power this woman has to perform such a miracle of magic. I wonder if I can have the same.