Summoning

“Spirits of ice, hear my cry!”

Mark was woken from sleep by an urgent call. He felt more than he heard it. He relaxed and let the call lead him. Soon, he was floating, then he was gliding. He opened his eyes and found himself in the physical world.

Like his home, it was night. The magician who had summoned him held a hand out towards a group of armed men that were storming up the slope of a hill towards her. Her face was streaked with tears. Her gown was in tatters. There was no doubt what these men would do to her if Mark failed to act.

“Bind these men in a prison,” she continued in the language of Mark’s people. “Protect me from any harm by them!”

Mark swooped down to her side. He surrounded her with his long, serpentine form and spread his wings protectively in front of her. Then he felt the energy flow from her to him and leaned down towards her foes.

He roared at the approaching men. They couldn’t see or hear him, but it didn’t matter. The ice he breathed covered them, freezing them in their tracks. None escaped his notice.

He turned and looked back at the magician who had summoned him. She gave him a weak smile and bowed. He lowered his head in a reflection of her gesture. Then he closed his eyes and relaxed as she released him from the summoning spell.

Mark, back in his own bed, yawned and lay back on the bedding. He was glad that he’d heard the woman’s summons, but he needed his rest.

where everyone you know never leaves too soon

Mark’s chest felt like it might burst. His breath was coming in rasping pants. His heart was pounding so hard that he could hear it in his ears. His legs ached horribly. Everything in him told him to stop, but he couldn’t.

He ran blindly through the forest. He didn’t need his eyes to see where he was going. He let his other senses guide him. He could smell the scent of flowers that could only be growing in the gardens. He could feel a cold breeze that could only come from the Iris Garden. Then he could hear it: the rush of the water over the Tyrian Ravine.

At last, it came into view: the water rushing over the stones. Mark hurried across the hidden ford and then dropped to his knees on the far side. At last, after a year of living with the mairs – as their slave – he was free. He chuckled softly. He was home!

do you believe in the day that you were born?

Mark watched with wide-eyed disbelief as the woman relaxed in the arms of the mairs. Not only was she letting them drink her blood, she seemed to enjoy it. He shook his head in wonder.

“How old are you?”

He startled at the voice, jostling the chains that bound his wrists. He glanced in the direction of the voice. A mair had settled down beside him. Mark swallowed thickly. “S-seventeen,” he said.

“That’s decades, correct,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

Mark nodded.

“You’re people believe that the Fates guide your path in life,” she said, glancing over at Mark’s former comrade in arms. “Do you believe that, on the day of your birth, this was the life the Fates wanted for you?”

Mark shook his head. “I can’t think that they would,” he murmured. He blinked in surprise when the chains fell away. He looked over at the mair with a similar expression to the one he’d been giving his comrade moments ago.

She smiled. “They’re distracted,” she whispered. “Run while you can and give my love to my son.”

Mark blinked. “Your son?”

“Go,” she pressed. Mark nodded once. This might be the only chance he had to win free of the traitors to Larisa.

It is time to say goodbye to this casual everyday life

Mark squirmed, trying vainly to escape the snare. It was hopeless. All he did was end up more tangled in the webbing. A low chuckle alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone. A tremor shook him and he glanced over one shoulder.

His heart began to pound wildly as the mairs stepped into view. They’d killed everyone else in the party already. Dagny probably thought he’d already joined them. He bit his lip to keep from whimpering.

“Hello,” one of them said, “you’re one that our friend wants us to take.”

“T-take?” Mark didn’t like the sound of that. As horrible as it was to be killed by mairs, to be not killed was a hundred times worse! Then they were crowding around him, pulling him free of the webbing and bearing him to the ground. “No! Fates, please, no!”

Vanish quickly, for you are finally free

Sindri tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. His entire body ached, which was good. It meant he was still alive. He squirmed and someone scolded him. “Put me down,” he complained.

“You can’t walk, Sindri,” Yori said. His voice was as soft as always, but there was a sort of intensity to it that Sindri wasn’t used to. Now, Sindri forced his eyes open.

“Mark?”

Mark shot him a half-hearted glare. “Take him and get out of here,” he said, looking at Yori. “Just… go!”

“What about you?” Yori said, his voice still had the same quiet intensity. Sindri realized he was worried. He wasn’t worried for himself – Yori wasn’t that sort of person. He was worried about Sindri and about Mark.

Mark seemed to realize the same thing. “Look,” he said, “you’re free! Just go! I – I’m not free and I won’t be, not for a while. If – when that time comes, I’ll make my way back to the Gardens.”

Yori nodded and then he hopped. Sindri tightened his weak grip on the captain’s shoulders as wings spread from his back. Then, they were gliding through the fields as softly as a whisper

**

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