A Shadowed Soul

Book Two of The Aligerai

By Kira R. Tregoning

Copyright 2014 Kira R. Tregoning

Smashwords edition

All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of Kira R. Tregoning.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design and Photo: Regina Wamba of www.maeidesign.com

Cover Model: Kimberly Tallman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To the Fellowship—you know who you are—and especially to Sam and Michelle.

Huge thanks to Kylie for beta reading!

Discover other titles by Kira R. Tregoning:

Rise of the Aligerai

Chapter 1

Deceptions

Summer heat retreated before the cool of night. On top of a small hill stood a noble mansion, tall and statuesque among the fields and trees that surrounded it. Lights flickered through windows on the lower floors, but no sign of human life could be seen.

Inside, in a bedroom on the second floor, slept Sita Newbury, the heir of the ancient House of Awle. She tossed in her sleep, her long golden hair tangled around her throat. Fine sheets of red satin covered her slim figure, the light material keeping her cool in the late July heat.

Sita turned onto her side, still dreaming, sweat beaded on her brow. A word escaped through her lips: Owen . . .

Another dream began to intrude, chasing away the memories of battles, enemies, and lost lovers. This dream entangled her mind so fully that she began to rise to wakefulness. A woman in the dream—impossibly tall, her dark brown skin glowing softly, eyes full of the universe—called out to her. Sita. Come to me. I must speak with you. Come to me on the lake. Sita resisted. Her warm bed embraced her, kept her safe and calm. Why should she leave it in the middle of the night?

Sita, the woman called, even louder now. "Sita, come to me now. It is urgent."

Finally Sita’s eyes opened. The dream stuck with her. She knew the figure, and knew she couldn’t refuse the demand of a goddess. "Fine, fine, fine," she said. Grumbling to herself, Sita rose from the bed and stumbled into her closet. She lit the lights with a wave of her hand, her power and the house’s inherent magic combining to do the task for her. She thumbed through her clothes before grabbing a simple dress and pulling it on.

An insistent wordless urging crashed against her like wave on a beach. The force of the pounding set Sita’s stomach roiling. She frowned and tsked. I’m coming, I’m coming! she said to the air. Shaking her head, the young woman walked through the hall and down the stairs to the foyer. Stupid Corá, interrupting my sleep. Why can’t she save this for normal hours? The front door opened of its own accord, the magical house doing its duty by its mistress.

Guided by a bright moon, Sita ambled down a wide field toward the lake to the east of her mansion, the water hidden within the forest. Compared to the heat of the summer days, Sita welcomed the coolness of the night air and was glad to find she was comfortable in just the dress. Moonlight enhanced the waist-length hair flowing behind her. As she entered the forest she discovered the lake through the trees.

Sita picked her way through the last of the grass and reeds by the lake’s shore. The feel of the cool plants and just-damp dirt between her toes made her grin with pleasure. Tiny waves rolled onto the muddy shore, creating a soothing aquatic song. Her hemline would be ruined, and she would make sure Corá heard a great deal about the subject before she left tonight. This was, after all, the Lady Corá’s idea.

The woods around her breathed with life, even in the middle of the night. Crickets chirped all around, and fireflies illuminated the trunks of trees with yellow dots. Night fliers winged their silent ways through the shadowed branches. An owl hooted nearby.

A ripple on the water caught Sita’s attention. She stepped closer to the lake, the cold liquid just lapping at her toes. Something began to rise from the water. Sita waited impatiently.

Finally the goddess Corá floated above the lake, her feet just on the surface. Her body was transparent, which only made sense—she was made of the clear blue waters, and moonlight shone straight through her. The being walked over the water. Droplets sprayed off her form in an invisible breeze. Thank you for coming, said Corá. The multi-toned voice of the goddess felt like a caress across the skin, and Sita noticed that the lake and forest seemed brighter and more vibrant when the goddess spoke.

Sita crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. "Do you realize what time it is? I was asleep."

I apologize, but I need to speak with you, Sita. I promise it is important.

It better be, Sita grumbled. Oh, and thanks to you, my hem is ruined. Just had to tell you that.

Corá crossed her own watery arms. The more you complain, little Earth child, the longer you will be out here, my dear. Sita sighed and allowed her shoulders to slump just slightly. Satisfied, Corá continued. I need to warn you. There is something happening, something that could change life on both worlds as we know it. The droplets flung away from her more rapidly now. I cannot see what it is, but I feel it building. Darci is planning something that could end life as we know it.

Sita clenched her hands into fists. Um, duh. It’s called a war. We know that already. What else’ve you got?

A drop of water slashed across Sita’s cheek and drew a shallow line of blood. She jumped and touched the cut with a finger. The injury stung, but the pain soon faded and the bleeding stopped.

Don’t be rude, Sita. When I speak, you should listen. It is not often I give such warnings. Sita bowed her head, placating the goddess. "Now, this is not about the war, not exactly. This is something bigger, more heinous, more . . . well, evil.

I fear for my sister, Earth, as you call her. The nature of this evil is aimed at her. I am sorry I cannot tell you anything more specific, but I am not a strong seer, and I only See the things relevant to me and mine.

Sita groaned. Let me guess. You want me to do something about it, right?

In a way. Just see what you can observe. The water of Corá’s body ran in slow swirls around her face. Also, you should consider bringing those you love here to Corá to live with you.

What do you mean?

The swirls across Corá’s watery skin moved faster, creating stronger currents and distorting her features. Waves on the lake that had been small and gentle now churned, and more cold water engulfed Sita’s feet. Have you not been listening? Earth will be attacked. Anyone caught in the crossfire will be destroyed, obliterated. Your safety is here.

I don’t think so. I’m going back to school in the fall. What about that?

You live here. What do you mean you are going back?

Sita bit her lip. The goddess was sometimes less understanding of human affairs, such as now. "This is not my home. I’m on vacation. I’m going back home to Maryland in the fall."

You should stay here. Corá stamped a foot, water spraying all over the girl. Besides, have you not been making the mansion livable? She shifted to view over Sita’s head. Sita turned to follow her gaze. Trees bent and swayed out of the way at Corá’s command to reveal the mansion’s upper stories. It looks quite homey to me. She paused, considering. Perhaps you do not know this yet, but there is a stable of some size in the far part of your property. You might want to see it.

Sita’s shoulders drooped. You’re trying to keep me here, aren’t you?

Yes.

The young woman’s features scrunched up into an angry scowl. "I’m going back to school in the fall. I don’t care what you say, I’m going back. My sister is there, my friends are there, and my school is there. I won’t abandon them so I can live here in luxury and boredom."

Corá’s face of water twisted into a maelstrom. She snarled. Stop being so selfish and do your duty. You were born to protect my sister, you were born to protect me, so do it!

Just as the goddess reached out to embrace her, Sita ran into the forest and back to the mansion, leaving a distraught Corá behind.

∞

As Sita sat at her dining room table the next morning, Corá’s words still rang through mind. For the past fortnight, she had been living in her inherited mansion in the magical world all by herself. Her friends from university had barely contacted her, or she them. She gulped some orange juice. She would see them again soon enough. After the battles a few weeks ago, we all need a break from each other for a little, Sita thought to herself. She sighed and stirred her cup of coffee. Still, it would be nice to have some company around here.

A note from Ka’len Lera, the ancient man who was her mentor in magic, appeared on the table in his usual seat across from her. Sita picked it up and read through the spidery writing. Hrm, no training today again, she said, her voice a soft murmur in the silence of her mansion. Sita sighed and finished her breakfast.

She left the dishes and food on the table. The house would whisk it away for her, its innate magic taking care of everything in the house from menial chores to major upkeep.

The skirts of her dress flowed around her legs as she walked into the kitchen. Sita smiled. Wearing long, flowing dresses like this would have earned her stares on Earth. Not so here—in Corá, women wore everything from garden trousers to the complicated, enormous hooped-skirt creations of the nobility. Sita was only glad that most women below the rank of baroness didn’t bother with corsets.

Sunlight beckoned her outdoors. With a grin, Sita hurried to change out of her long morning dress and into something more useful. She then gathered a small metal pail full of seed packets, a trowel and hand rake, gloves, and a kerchief from the mud room off the back of the kitchen. The house opened the front door to let her leave.

Sita stepped out the door of her mansion and tied the kerchief around her long hair. She ambled down to the little garden plot just in front of the stone wall around the house. A light breeze carried the fresh earthy scents of the field and woods and the warm sun heated her skin to a pleasant temperature. The garden was bare now, having not been taken care of for centuries while the mansion lay empty. Sita swung the little tin pail, humming to herself while the seed packets slid along the pail’s bottom and the metal tools clinked against the sides.

Squatting down in her blue denim shorts and oversized, old Maryland t-shirt, Sita surveyed the empty ground. Let’s see, I can put the roses at the far end, and the daffodils here, and the lilies . . . A plan in the works, she set to work and began to dig into the soil with her tiny trowel.

Hours later, the sun now high in the sky and the wind strengthening, Sita sat up. Muscles in her back that had tightened from the unfamiliar work ached as she rose. She sat back on her heels and studied her work. Half the garden now held plants from the far end nearest the wall corner and down along the stone wall’s edge. Sita glanced down into the pail and counted the packets of seeds she had left—there were nine. A sigh escaped between the small smile on her lips and her green-blue eyes glowed. It’s going to be so nice to look out the window and see some color in this unending green lawn. She had planted the roses in the corner, followed by a column each of daffodils, crocuses, lavender, and then the lilies.

A shadow fell over her face. Startled, she slid backward and landed with an oomph. Robert’s face stared down at her from above, a lopsided grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. Doing some domestic chores today, are we? She simply nodded. What’ve you planted?

Nice to see you, too, Robbie. Sita handed him the empty seed packets.

He flicked through them before giving her a curious glance, one eyebrow raised. You’ve never gardened before, have you?

Sita shook her head. No. Why?

No reason, he replied. He handed the packs back to her. His lithe body leaned against the wall and he watched her stand up in silence. So what’ve you been up to?

Sita brushed the dirt and grass off her legs and clothes. Training. Gardening. She shrugged. Reading some books from the library. She dropped her gaze. I visited Eric’s grave yesterday morning.

Rob tensed. Sita . . .

She waved away anything he might say. Don’t. He just died a few weeks ago. It’s too soon to talk about him. I just . . . I visited his grave because it didn’t feel real. And because he died defending me from Sandara. How could I not visit him?

Her friend clearly had nothing to say. So, you’ve decided to live here, then? he asked, his voice bland.

Sita studied his face for a moment. A stoic mask of polite curiosity waited for her answer. No, I’m just here on vacation, you know that. She picked up the tin pail and put her tools back inside. She had had enough of her new garden for the day. It’s summer at home and I decided to chill out here for a little while. You know, get away from things at home. My sister, Marie, wasn’t exactly pleased when she found out what all was happening. She was so angry when I told her about the excitement she missed two weeks ago.

Robert chuckled. No, I suppose she wouldn’t be too happy. But really, it was better she stayed home. War is no place for young girls. And Professors Alan and Sandara were particularly nasty. Sita’s lip curled at the mention of their erstwhile enemies, now dead these past two weeks by her hands.

The pair began to walk back across the wide expanse of field toward the mansion. Silence walked with them for a few minutes as Sita waited for Robert to tell her why he was here, and Robert waited for her to stop staring at him in that annoying, faintly accusing way. Robert lost. "You could live here, you know. For good, I mean. There’s no rule against that. And it would be nice to see this place brought back to life. I’ve seen some of the written records on it, and it was supposed to be an amazing house back then, when your clan was still around."

She walked on, watching the grass below her feet. No, she said softly. I can’t. I can’t leave my sister. Especially knowing what I know, about the war and Darci and all. Just because the armies aren’t fighting right now doesn’t mean there isn’t danger. And Darci knows where my family is. I can’t leave Marie on her own; she’d never stand a chance.

Rob stopped her before she could build into a rant. I didn’t mean abandon your family, Si. I meant move here, but still keep an eye on your home. It’s what I’ve been doing for years.

This news brought Sita to a halt. She blinked up at him a few times before she found words. "What, you mean . . . you’ve been living here all this time? I thought you had an apartment in New York."

He grinned as he pulled her hand to keep her walking. I do. It’s there for me when I don’t feel like coming back here. I’ve also got an apartment in D.C., so I’m closer to you girls. But I live here most of the time. Actually, my house is near Torthal, a town closer to the capital, Lampros. Sita nodded. So you could live here, bring this place back, and just travel between the two planes, like I do. It’s not that hard, I promise.

Sita gazed at her mansion. Funny, I’ve already started to think of this place as mine. Weird. She opened the door when they reached it, the candles in the foyer coming to life as she stepped through. Uncertain, she looked back at Rob. I’ll think about it, but I’m just not sure, Rob. It’s a big decision.

But you will think about it? he asked anxiously.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Why do you want me to move here so much, Robbie? Why’s this so important to you?

Rob squirmed a little before answering, much to Sita’s amusement. I think you’d be safest here, he blurted. I think you should live here, where your ancestors lived, and bring the mansion back to its glory. It’s still a really magical place, in case you haven’t noticed, even though no one has lived here for centuries except the ghosts. I’d like to see it brought back up, and I’ll help, if you want.

Thanks for the offer, but I don’t know. Earth is where I was born. It’s where my family has been since . . . well, forever. She shrugged. It’s home, with Marie. How can I abandon it just because Corá is a much cooler and more magical world? Sita tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her blue-green eyes clouded over. You know, this is the second time in two days someone has tried to convince me to stay here. What is it with you all? Doesn’t anyone care what I want?

Robert’s brow furrowed. Apprehension glimmered in his eyes. What do you mean, twice?

Sita told him about Corá’s late-night visit, waxing eloquent on the subject long enough that she had finished cleaning her tools and putting them away by the time she finished her story.

The young man breathed a deep sigh of relief. Sita didn’t ask why. She still scowled about her visitor last night and paid less attention to her friend. Rob sat down in one of the kitchen’s chairs and relaxed, visibly glad she was no longer interrogating him. Have you heard from Ka’len? he asked.

Her expression lightened. Yes, I have. He was supposed to come today for more training with me, but he canceled. I’m not sure why, his note didn’t say. But he should be here tomorrow.

Then what are you going to do for the rest of today?

Sita shrugged. I’m not sure.

Have you heard from the other Aligerai?

Mentioning the group of young women did the trick of distracting her from Rob’s earlier comments. Sita joined him at the table, her face brighter. The sunshine streaming through the windows highlighted her golden hair and fair skin. No, I haven’t heard from anyone. I think I remember that Roxie and Ari were on vacations with their families. I figure you would know more about Allen than I would. She noticed the empty table and the lunch hour. You hungry?

Rob shook his head in reply. Not really. And as for Allen, I haven’t seen him all that much, actually. I bet he’s spending time with Roxie a lot. They’re still dating pretty heavy, last time I checked.

Yeah, maybe he’s with her. Oh well, we can find out as soon as we all get back to school in a few weeks. She touched the back of Rob’s hand on the table. "Wait, you are coming back, right? You’ll still be around?"

His disbelieving stare was all the answer she needed. Of course. Sita smiled at him in relief. She saw his eyes widen and his cheeks redden. She didn’t have time to stop him before he stood up, stammered a quick farewell, and vanished in a flash of light blue magic.

Sita bit her lip. The mention of her school friends—dubbed the Aligerai by the people of Corá, for reasons she still didn’t know—awoke a sense of loneliness that she wasn’t sure how to cure. She grabbed the glass of water that appeared on the table at her wish and climbed the stairs into her library for a few hours of reading before dinner.

∞

Robert exhaled, trying to shake off his uneasiness. He hated deceptions, and this one ran fairly deep. Frown lines had etched themselves into his face over the last few days. This assignment was one of the worst, one of the ones he hated the most.

He stood in the entrance of another mansion, almost as fine as Sita’s, and nearly as large. This house held no magic, however, and he had to open doors himself. Robert walked up the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer’s far side, deep red carpet hushing his steps. Unlit candles for most of the length of the hall made the second floor dark and imposing. Clearly the servants didn’t bother keeping up with the task of cleaning the giant house.

Gold foil covered the ornate woodwork of the door he stopped in front of. Robert knocked on the door after clearing his throat. A voice from inside bade him enter. He tugged on the edges of his shirt and walked inside.

A man sat behind a large wooden desk. Neatly-trimmed graying hair lent him an air of authority. The office’s dark colors of brown, black, and forest green created more shadows instead of dispelling them. Those shadows shrouded the older man in darkness, despite the daylight Robert could see through the window. The impression unnerved him, as he was sure it was meant to.

Rob bowed to the man. Mr. Knight, reporting as ordered, sir.

Alexander Knight waved him to a chair. Be seated, Robert. Relax. He picked up a pen and turned his dark brown eyes to the small stack of papers on his desk. Tell me what you have accomplished.

Nothing.

Knight’s gaze darkened, but there was no other visible sign of his displeasure. Robert’s fingers tightened around his shirt hem.

Nothing? Knight asked.

Correct, sir. I have attempted my task, as ordered. I have been unsuccessful as of yet.

The older man set down his pen to recline in his chair. Robert knew this apparent sign of relaxation was nothing more than attempt to conceal anger. Knight’s eyes narrowed. You have attempted your task. So you did speak to Sita Newbury about remaining in Corá?

Yes, sir.

And the bird-woman refused.

So far, yes, sir.

Those dark eyes narrowed further. How many times have you asked her?

Rob licked his lips. Once.

Knight scowled. He rose from the chair and slammed his hands onto the desk so fast that Robert shrunk back into his chair. "Only once? You dare report this failure to me when you have only tried once? He sneered. Are you afraid of her reaction? Afraid she might strike you? Do you truly believe Sita would attack one of her dear friends, even in anger?"

Robert mustered enough strength to answer. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. His voice was thin, and pitched too high for his liking.

Robert, this assignment is important. I don’t know if that has permeated through your thick brain. Knight began to regain his composure. He sat back down in his chair, folding his hands tight on the desk’s top. Sita must remain in Corá. There is no choice in this. If she returns to Earth in the fall, events could take her out of my reach forever.

Silence fell. Robert struggled to sit straighter in his chair. He managed it just as Alexander Knight returned from his reverie and glared at the younger man. You will do this again, Robert. You will try again as soon as possible. There is little time left. I have not told you what I suspect the enemy’s plans are, but if I turn out to be right, we need to get Sita, and probably her friends as well, off of Earth and moved here to Corá.

A wave of his hand brought Robert to his feet. Try again tomorrow, Knight said again.

Yes, sir.

Alexander Knight dismissed him and Robert hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hallway, Robert realized he had sweat through his shirt. Knight’s unpredictable anger scared him more than Sita’s did.

Chapter 2

Despair

Metanoia had no beginning and no end. It went on forever in all directions. Or so it seemed to Owen Madison. He saw no walls, no horizon. There were no doors in or out. No escape.

Owen lay on the floor—or what he thought of as the floor. For all he knew, he could be on the ceiling, looking down at the insanity below instead of up.

Faces and ghostly bodies swirled all around him in a never-ending stream. Those faces, translucent and shining like the face of the full moon, gaped at him with mouths opened wide, their eyes even wider. Everything was tinted green.

But it was the screams that drilled into his brain with frightening intensity and wormed their way into the scared corners of his heart. Those screams came from all manner of creature: man, woman, child, even animal. The howls of the children, pleading for their mothers, wishing for home, were the ones that stopped his heart and sent cold shivers of fear through his body. How did children find their way to this hell?

Owen licked his dry lips. He only knew where he was—he had no idea how long he had been trapped there, no idea if escape was possible from the inside. He wasn’t even sure if he was alive or dead. In this madhouse, both were equally possible.

He felt down his body. His clothes were still there, but a bit ragged. His weapons were all gone. His shoulder-length black hair felt greasy—he must have been here at least a few days, then. With the foul air of Metanoia floating all about him, he could not tell if he smelled. Owen swallowed. Thirst clawed at his throat, and hunger ate at his spine. He had definitely been here a while.

All he had left to defend himself with was his magic.

Owen thought about lifting into the air on his wings to try for an exit, but the planar wind that swirled all around his prison discouraged the idea.

He paused at the thought of the planar wind. Am I between Earth and Corá, then? he said to the faces howling around him. Am I trapped between the planes?

His feet held him up when he stood, and began to carry him forward. Damn you, Alan, he said to himself. If I ever get out of here alive, you’re the first one I’m going after. Anger burned in his eyes, fueled him onward. I’ll kill you for doing this to me.

The walking and searching kept him going for hours, but there was no evidence of a door. After a while, Owen began to call out for help, to see if any others were trapped as well. Finally, he stopped and sank to the ground, his knees unable to support his weight. The faces never ceased their screaming, the wind never stopped circling him or Metanoia. Owen tried to ignore the faces, but nothing could block out that cursed screaming. I will not go insane, he said firmly, his face contorting into lines of fury.

One thought stuck with him through the hours of walking, stayed with him into his dreams. One thought kept his feet moving when he grew tired, one thought drove away the hunger and thirst and despair.

Sita.

His beautiful Sita, with her long golden hair and deep blue-green eyes. He could still imagine the press of her lips on his. The feel of her soft skin on his fingertips felt so real to his depressed mind. The memory of her laughter provided a sharp contrast to the screams all around him. But it was her eyes that captivated him, even when he had come to her in dreams months ago, before they met in person. Those eyes, tinged with the power that lay just beneath the surface, kept him moving.

He prayed to whatever god may be listening in this hellish place that his dreams remain free from the insanity of Metanoia.

∞

Papers littered the floor of the former Professor Alan’s office. Candles threw shadows over the walls and the flames danced in the drafts of wind that managed to make their way inside through the cracks of windows and doors. Papers fluttered in the scant breeze.

A young woman sat on the floor, her black hair unbound to almost mid-back. It used to be short enough to brush her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the dark tresses, enjoying the feel of the silky hair. Her other hand held up a paper to the thin candlelight, her eyes squinting to see what was written there.

The wind howled outside, whizzing past the windows so fast it made the whole house shake and the windows shudder. The young woman spared only a glance at the darkened glass before returning to her reading.

Professor Alan had been crafty, indeed. There was more to his plot than she had ever guessed. But there was one thing that she had figured out and wanted to turn to her own ends. She bit her lip, forcing back the smile threatening to emerge. This was perfect.

The good professor had caused a lot of problems last year for the peoples of two worlds. She wasn’t sorry he was dead, nor was she sorry that his partner, Sandara, was also dead. They may have been crafty, and dangerous, but she was better off without those two. She was glad she hadn’t had to kill them herself. She had Sita and her friends to thank for that.

Her lips curved into a small smile when she thought of her own cleverness. During the war a few weeks ago, she knew Alan and Sandara had hoped she would help them. How wrong they had been. She knew they would be killed, how could they not? They had angered the sleeping dragon of Sita’s anger when they kidnapped her boyfriend. Of course Sita would go after them and, if the professors did not return her precious lover—as they had not—then she would kill them. And she did.

Besides, that minor scuffle between armies was only the beginning of her war. Why involve herself at the beginning when she wasn’t required until the very end?

Another paper caught her eye, the parchment just below her knee. She set down the other paper to one side, picked up the new piece, and held it up. The spidery script made her eyes ache as she fought to understand the words. Her eyes widened. Her breath quickened. She felt queasy, she began to sweat, and her hands trembled. This changed everything.

Something inside her brain felt like it snapped. Her eyes felt clouded. Her vision swam. She bent over the paper, one hand pressed to her temple. Her lips curled into a snarl. It felt like someone else gazed through her eyes and read the paper after her, as if a presence inhabited this body for the few seconds it needed.

Growling, she shoved the paper away and closed her black eyes. The magic in Darci’s body rushed to the surface, eager to search and roam. It canvassed the room before it spread out to cover the entire manse. She felt what few underlings she had left cower in fear at her touch.

Nothing. Nothing that could have invaded the mind. The power receded back into her body, waiting like a spider in its web for the prey to come to it. The creature still known as Darci Mansfield climbed to her feet and walked from the room.

The real Darci shivered in an imaginary field in her mind, frightened by what she had dared to do. She settled her head on her knees. What use is it? she said to herself. What’s the use? It’s not like I can tell anyone else about this. I’m trapped. She shivered again, despite the warm wind. Oh, Sita, I’m sorry, so sorry.

Darci raised her head to frown at the black clouds in front of her, across the field. They roiled in the air, covering everything from sky to ground. She could see nothing but the clouds of electric black magic. They ate away at her sanctuary in slow but sure bites. Yesterday the clouds had been ten feet further away. She didn’t want them to come any closer, but the magic knew she was there, somewhere. It searched for her.

The ground felt warm. She lay down on the grass, rested her head on her arms, and wept.

Chapter 3

Lessons

It felt good to walk barefoot through the tall grasses, still slightly damp from morning dew. The breeze that always flowed through her lands tousled her hair in its playful grip, and Sita grinned.

The field was empty today. Deer had moved on from morning grazing, and other animals had retreated into the forest as well. It would be hers alone.

She topped the rise of a low hill and looked behind her. The mansion, spread out in three wings in a wide, flat-bottomed V sort of shape, waited for her below. Its three floors rose from the ground, and the dark attics winked at her in the sunshine. Sita grinned. Who knew I would own something like this in my lifetime?

A good spot presented itself as she walked to the center of the rise, and she sat down cross-legged, her dark red skirts spread around her in the emerald grass. Sita closed her eyes and breathed deep. This was a practice Ka’len, her teacher, had impressed upon her, and frankly, she enjoyed it. He called it the stabilizing exercise, or sometimes ground and center. She simply called it meditation because it was a much more familiar concept. Her teacher said this exercise would stabilize her body and magic in herself and in the earth, and would give her a base to work from and connect to. It seemed to work, so she had no reason to argue with him.

She steadied her breathing into a pattern of deep breaths and short pauses between. Her limp hands rested on her knees. Her shoulders sagged as she relaxed, though she kept her back straight. After this, her legs and bottom would hurt a bit from the strain of keeping her upright, but that was fine with her. It seemed a good tradeoff for the amount of benefit this exercise gave her.

Another puff of wind swept through her hair, and when it had passed, Sita kept her eyes closed and began to center herself. She mentally pulled in all the loose magic around her and back into her body. It only took her four breaths this time before she was finished—Ka’len would be pleased, she was getting faster at it. She could hear him lecturing her now: You must always center yourself. Getting centered is important, not only for you, but for the people around you. Your magic, when left free outside your body and thus outside your control, influences others, and can even be siphoned off by another mage to use as he wishes.

She wrinkled her nose. It was true, all of that could happen. But she didn’t need a lecture on it. Sita almost laughed and returned to her exercise. All of her magic was now comfortably inside her skin, pulled there by mental hands and kept there by proximity to the wellspring of her power inside her, like a magnet.

With centering finished, she moved into grounding. This was also important for a mage’s peace of mind. Grounding gave her a base, a place to begin and end all her magical practices. It gave her a controlled siphon for excess power and even for uncontrollable emotions like rage. This part of the exercise would keep her magical feet on firm ground and keep her in balance with her magic and with the earth.

Sita kept her eyes closed and with her mental vision and mental hands, she tugged loose a thread of her power and drove it into the earth below herself. She sent it coursing down as far as she could, until she felt her hands could go no farther. Then she pulled back and opened her eyes.

She felt calm and relaxed. The thread meant to ground her stuck with her as she climbed to her feet and moved around, as it was supposed to. Her muscles felt loose. With a grin, Sita sat down again and sank back into the meditative state, letting her mind wander. Her thoughts turned inward, and her mind-self roamed through the wellspring of magic that lurked around her abdomen. Sita gave a mental sigh. It always feels good to do this. I wish I could stay forever. But she shook her head and pulled out of the meditation with a reluctant smile. That would be impossible, she said to herself.

The trees rustled in the breeze, and Sita stayed where she was, just watching. It was a good day, with the sun shining, only a few clouds in the sky, and the wind to cool her from the sun’s glare. Sita rose to her feet and brushed herself off.

Now that that’s done, I want to give this a try . . . Sita held out her right hand in front of her, palm up and fingers flat, and concentrated. A globe of violet appeared in her hand, pulled up from the seat of her magic and through her skin to become visible.

Satisfied that it would stay in her palm, Sita then used a mental hand to give the globe a twist. It began to spin. With that same hand, she began to flatten it out as it spun into a disk, as flat as a piece of paper, and no bigger than her palm when she finished.

The disk spun faster than she had thought possible, and she was afraid to touch it for fear of cutting herself. Sita experimented with it: she raised and lowered her hand vertically, then moved it side to side, even turned her palm upside down. The disk stayed with her, still spinning, still flat.

With a grin of triumph, Sita chose a nearby tree as her target. She took careful aim and set herself in position—left side facing the tree, right arm slightly curved and prepared to throw, feet set apart and her weight settled on the back foot. When it felt right, she moved her arm into motion and threw the disk as if she were skipping rocks on a pond.

Sunshine glinted off the violet disk, making it hard for Sita to see it as it flew. She held a hand above her eyes for shade and tried to track it. The tree shook when the disk hit it, and Sita smiled. It worked.

She hurried down the hill to the tree. There was a mark in it about mid-way up its height, roughly five inches wide. Sita peered inside the cut, almost a foot deep. The disk itself had disappeared once all its energy had been expended and it could no longer draw from her.

I can’t believe it worked. Sita bounced a bit on her toes and clapped her hands in elation. This is great! I can’t wait to show Ka’len. Excited, she ran back up the hill and practiced with the disks until she felt tired. Then she lay back in the soft grasses, sleepy and happy, and slept in the sun.

∞

Ka’len Lera showed up on Sita’s doorstep one morning a few days after Robert had come calling. The house opened the door for the familiar man. His usual outfit of trousers and tunic was colorful today, the bottoms brown and the shirt blue. His short gray beard was neatly trimmed. He folded his hands behind his back.

Sita met him at the door. Instead of her preferred gowns, today she wore something more practical: fitted black trousers made of cotton, a sleeveless black shirt that sloped down in the back almost to her waist, and the necklace and rings she never took off. She curtailed her long hair in a ponytail. The young woman handed her teacher his morning sausage roll and walked out onto the patio. The door shut behind her. In silence they turned left and made their way to the training fields.

The fields showed evidence of past training sessions. Huge holes—more akin to miniature craters—decorated the landscape. The fields stretched for miles, one huge open expanse in the middle of the forest. The edges of the fields could barely be seen from the mansion’s third floor. Sita thought it was smart that they were so far away from the house—what if a young mage lost control or sent a huge attack the wrong way?

Ka’len finished his roll just as they stepped into the middle of the field. He turned to her. How are you this morning, Sita?

Fine. I haven’t slept well lately, thanks to Corá, but otherwise I’m okay. How are you?

I am also fine, though I fancy myself better rested than you. The hint of a smile tugged at his lips. Are you ready?

Yes.

Then let us begin.

Sita nodded and closed her eyes. Ka’len would only give her twenty seconds to prepare. She counted down in her mind, going through the ritual of grounding and centering at lightning speed. Her violet-colored magic welled inside her. Ten seconds.

Her mind shushed itself, focusing entirely on the ritual. To center her magic, she pulled any extra bits back into her body, contracting the invisible halo of power that normally hung around any mage. Five seconds. She then anchored a tendril into the earth, grounding herself in its steadiness.

Time ran out. Sita opened her eyes.

Ka’len still stood in front of her. She blinked, confused. Ka’len?

He smiled and chuckled at her. You are confused. I am sorry. Today we are discussing something new before we begin.

She blinked again, thoroughly unbalanced. New?

Yes. I have told you of your ancestor, my former student, Lena Koniet, yes?

Yes.

"She was an amazingly gifted color mage, or chroa, as color mages are called. You are also a chroa, but your friends are type mages, and so are called genos, or genoi for plural. Sita had adjusted to the surprise and now stood with constrained patience, her hands clasped behind her back. Lena was only a green chroa, but she had done things with her limited magic that pushed the limits and made her even stronger. A normal green mage is strong, yes, able to take on ten men if they are weaker than the mage. But Lena, she could take on twice that number and come out unscathed. She could even fight against stronger mages and leave them in pieces if she were so inclined."

Sita’s eyebrows rose. A green mage was one of the stronger types of color mages, but they were normally dwarfed by those with blue magic, the strength of the mage increasing exponentially as the colors grew darker. If Lena could take on blue mages and come out the winner, then she must have been very strong indeed. How could she do that?

Ka’len smiled, his eyes mischievous. She got creative. She found ways to extend her power to its limits, to concentrate it in such a way that it hurt the enemy without taking up too much of her own power.

How? Will you show me?

At this, his face became downcast. I will try. However, Lena came up with these techniques by herself. I saw the process and the results, but I do not know if her feat can be duplicated, especially when the master is not the teacher.

Sita nodded. I understand. I think we should try it anyway.

He grinned and happiness bubbled in her chest. Good, he said. Then today’s practice will be a bit longer. First, I wish to run through our more normal drills, spar a bit. Then we can experiment.

Biting her lip in excitement, Sita nodded and readied herself again. This time, when she counted the twenty seconds Ka’len granted her, she allowed her mind to split. With one third, she concentrated on the game in front of her. With another third, she thought of Lena’s creative attacks. With the last third, she did nothing. Instincts took over.

When she opened her eyes, it was to see a great blue ball of magic, at least as tall as she, barreling toward her from the left. Sita dodged it by leaping backward. She was sure Ka’len had expected her to rise into the air, so instead she kept to the ground.

Another blue ball erupted from behind her. Sita set up her shields by wrapping them around her and continued to run to the forest line. Ka’len had to be hiding in the trees if she couldn’t see him.

This blue ball was smaller than the first, and she dissipated the attack easily with a few disks of her own violet magic, flung at the giant ball in rapid succession. It erupted, scattering blue strands of magic everywhere. Sita took the opportunity the explosion offered to rise into the air.

Some mages, she knew, could fly without wings. They used their magic or boulesis to propel them into the air, but they could not fly for very long. Or, if they were shapechangers like her friend Ari, they could fly as a bird. Sita took neither of these paths.

Huge white wings burst from between her shoulder blades. They stretched out above her head, the feathers gleaming in the sunlight of early morning. Sita beat these wings in powerful strokes that carried her from the ground in a matter of seconds. Soon she was high enough to see over the treetops with ease.

Sita smirked. Ka’len would have to think harder about attacking her now. From this height, she had the advantage. Any attack he sent her way could be avoided easily, and would betray his own position.

A motion to the right caught her eye. She could just barely see Ka’len peeking out at her from under the trees. Grinning, Sita brought her hands together in front of her