Hidden Magic of Aldarae: Legacies, Chapter 3

They set out just before first light the next morning. The Warranhalls weren’t thrilled with the early departure, but Gareth and Erryn were being cautious and would take no argument. And so the group was on the road for an hour before the sun had even fully risen; once again Erryn could feel exhaustion dragging at his bones.

Elsya, Ciara, and Andre—the three servants who rode behind the carriage—could be heard chatting softly as the sun began her relentless climb overhead. The hours wore on and the scenery around them slowly began to change, fields and groves giving way to rocks and scrappy little bushes that looked rather hostile for plants. The smell of salt water floated to them on the breeze. They were approaching the coast.

At midday on the dot, a huge wall of sheer rock began rising up on their left as the road wound down toward the bay that was steadily approaching on their right. Soon the path narrowed until it was just barely wide enough for the carriage. The servants, Erryn, and Gareth were forced to ride single file before and behind the contraption, Erryn and Ciara bringing up the rear of the procession.

The sun was hot and angry overhead. Erryn felt sweat gathering in the grooves of his bones and armor. Ciara, just in front of him, had abandoned her kerchief in favor of piling her hair on top of her head, having hitched her skirts up immodestly high on her legs in an effort to escape the heat.

“Water has never looked so good to me as it does just now,” she called back to him about an hour into their trek down the side of the cliff face. He chuckled tiredly, glancing over to the glimmering green-gray surface of the bay, choppy waves stirred up by a breeze too far below for them to feel slapping at a pebbly shore. It did look surprisingly inviting.

“Only another hour or so, then we’ll take a break and you can soak to your heart’s content,” he called up, and her laugh floated back to him.

Something happened up ahead, a wheel catching on loose rock, and the carriage suddenly wobbled dangerously. Erryn’s heart leaped into his throat. They could hear the shrieks of the younger Warranhalls before the horses strained and righted the thing.

“Everyone alright?” He could hear Gareth calling from the front of the caravan, his voice carried back on a blessed breeze.

Muffled affirmatives from within the carriage, and they set off again. Erryn was more wary now, scanning as far up ahead of the path as he could for more treacherous ground.

But it wasn’t something he saw that warned him of the approaching danger when it came. It was something he heard; crackling fire and clashing stones formed into words that were carried on a suddenly fierce wind that whipped around them, pulling them closer to the sheer drop—here still at least a hundred feet high. Ciara looked back at him, eyes wide and terrified.

His instincts kicked into overdrive. “What does it mean?” he shouted to her over the wind and the steadily rising voice chanting in Old Tongue. If they could decipher the spell, maybe they could stop it.

She didn’t get a chance to answer. The horses screamed in pure, primal terror as the rocked suddenly gave way beneath them. Then they were all plunging toward the unforgiving earth below.

Shrieks filled the air, almost indistinguishable from the now screaming wind and booming Old Tongue. Erryn’s horse desperately tried to find purchase on the slipping ground beneath them, but the whole party was caught in a massive rockslide, a primal attack from nature itself. Stones pelted his back and neck and he squinted against the massive clouds of dust, coughing and shouting for the others to try to keep their animals steady. He could see nothing in chaos, only hear the screams of horses and humans alike, hear the awful crunching as stones pulverized wood and—gods forbid—bone.

In the terror and confusion, his horse suddenly began to tip toward the swiftly moving earth. An abrupt stillness overcame his mind: if his mount lost his footing in this, they were dead. The earth would bury them beneath ten tons of stone.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Then, suddenly, the rockslide itself seemed to take in his sudden calm. The thunder of stones and shriek of voices faded to a background hum, the only real sound that booming voice shouting in Old Tongue—but it too was being drowned out, tempered by another voice, one that spoke in the chime of a fresh stream and the soft rustle of grass as small creatures passed. The dust began to clear.

He looked up.

Ciara hovered above them all, bare feet just brushing the tops of the tumbling earth and rock as she glided in front of the falling and shrieking procession. Her head was thrown back, arms spread wide as though to embrace the sky, eyes closed and mouth moving. Her hair and skirt floated slowly about her as though she was underwater. From her lips poured an endless flow of incomprehensible Old Tongue, rising slowly in volume until it almost completely overcame the voice that had started their fall toward death.

Her head suddenly snapped up and her eyes flew open. If he’d been able to, Erryn would have gasped aloud. Doe brown was replaced with a burning gold, bright and shining as the sun above them. Ciara threw her hands forward and up. She shouted something in Old Tongue, and the rocks stilled. The other voice faded completely. Slowly, painfully slowly, her body lowered so her feet were once more touching the earth, her lips never stopping their ceaseless murmur.

Then, all at once, those golden eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed.

For three breathless moments, Erryn simply couldn’t move. Shock seemed to have seeped into the very core of his being and said, No, no, too much to deal with. Don’t really feel like moving just yet.

Then a voice sounded, a child’s voice soaked in tears, and he managed to snap himself into action. “Sound off!” he called, then immediately choked on the dust still clogging the air. It seemed only the immediate area around Ciara had cleared, and once she’d fainted the dust had swarmed in again.

“Here!”

Gareth.

Oh, thank gods. He sagged with relief on his shaking mount.

“Here!”

“H-here!”

Elsya and Andre, the other manservant. Good. Carefully, Erryn dismounted and made his way over the crumbled heap of earth and rocks toward Ciara’s prone form.

“Here, here! Warranhalls all here, though Mother seems to have fainted!”

Good, good. He peered through the clouded air and saw the carriage had come to a halt a few yards above the rest of the party, stuck on a massive mound of stone. It was difficult to tell, but he thought at least three of the wheels were smashed beyond repair, and the door facing him seemed to be jammed. Aiden was leaning out the window, squinting in an effort to see how the rest of the party had fared. Gareth was making his way up to them, hoisting an unconscious body out of the driver’s seat when he reached the carriage. Elsya and Andre were following, bruised and bleeding.

Jem must have been knocked out, being exposed to the stones up there on the driver’s seat. Erryn prayed he was alright, but there was nothing he could do for him just now. He knelt next to Ciara, lifting her hand to check for a pulse and tilting her head to check for injuries, moving purely out of habit.

Witch.

“Can you get out from the other side?” he heard Gareth asking.

“I think so… Come on, Jorren, help me with this—"

He smoothed a strand of red-brown hair out of her face.

Magic.

Erryn lifted the unconscious girl in his arms and made his way down off the last of the rocks. The slide had taken them all the way to the base of the cliff; the bay was scant yards away from where he laid Ciara down, bundling up his uniform cape to slip under her head as a pillow.

Traitor.

More sounds behind him, voices. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all okay. Just shaken, really.”

Mina and Lisanna crying, Lady Warranhall coming hazily out of her swoon, her husband murmuring something comforting. The boys talking quickly and worriedly, asking after the health of their servants.

“Jem, is…is he—?”

“Just unconscious, but he’s got a pretty big gash on his head. We need to stop the bleeding…”

Erryn stared down at Ciara and unsheathed his dagger. Slowly, he pressed the blade against her throat.

Murder.

It would be so easy. Just a quick slash and it would all be over.

The dagger started shaking.

It took him a moment to realize it was because he was shaking.

A monster like this killed Father. Magic is evil. I have to…

“Erryn?” Gareth, coming up behind him. “Is that Ciara? Is she alright?” A pause, footsteps hesitating, unsure. “Ryn?”

Erryn twisted around, dagger sheathed. “She fainted, I think,” he answered calmly, feeling very far away from his own body. “I can’t find a mark that would indicate she was knocked out.” He bent to scoop the girl up again and stood. “Come on.” He jerked his head to indicate the rest of the bedraggled party. “We have to get these people somewhere safe.”

Of course, that was when it started raining. Huge, steel gray clouds had appeared seemingly from nowhere; they started out over the bay, but within minutes they were emptying their contents in torrents of icy water over the group. By the time Gareth managed to locate an outcropping of rock large enough for them to huddle under and attended to their injured companions, they were all thoroughly drenched. The horses were tethered just outside—there simply wasn’t room for them. The animals didn’t seem to mind unduly, though many were favoring legs that had been battered in the fall.

To Erryn’s regret, one of the creatures hadn’t survived the ordeal. An old gelding Andre rode, patchy around his muzzle with age. The manservant said the beast had collapsed underneath him just before the rockslide “ran itself out.” Andre had been thrown far enough forward that he’d managed to escape the worst of the pelting stones, but it seemed the poor horse had broken his neck.

So, once it was clear that Jem and Ciara would not wake any time soon and the gash on the young man’s forehead had been bandaged, Erryn told his brother where he was going and left the first aide to him for a while. He stepped out into the rain and trekked back to the site of their crash, easily finding the huge, dark body despite the curtain of water. It took him nearly an hour to arrange a cairn around the fallen creature, but it gave him something to do other than think.

Ciara was a witch. She had lied to him. She was a traitor to the Crown. She was a monster, a creature of evil.

She had saved all their lives.

He knew it deep in his gut; whatever she had done had slowed their fall and ensured they survived. She had overcome whatever enchantment was cast to make them fall in the first place. Someone evil wouldn’t do that, surely? If she wanted them dead, she could have just let the rockslide run its course and saved herself.

So. What was he supposed to do now?

When he got back to the others the rain was slowing slightly. He settled himself next to Gareth, shaking the water out of his hair before inquiring after Ciara’s and Jem’s conditions. Gareth wordlessly handed him his cape to use as a towel before answering.

“Jem seems to be doing okay, bruised all over but nothing broken. Seems like we just have to wait for him to wake up. Cia…” He shook his head, lowering his voice slightly. “I don’t know, Ryn. It’s like you said, she’s got no marks or any major injuries, just a few scrapes and bruises. Honestly she got off the easiest of all of us…”

Maybe because she had been floating.

“But she won’t wake up. And she’s started running a fever.” He looked up at his brother with sad eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Ryn. We have to get them the rest of the way on foot, but if she doesn’t wake up soon…”

They would have to leave her. They couldn’t risk the lives of a noble family for one servant girl—and a witch at that, though he was only one who knew.

Maybe that would be the best option, to leave her here and continue their journey once Jem woke up. It removed the decision of whether or not to kill her from his shoulders, anyway.

But that was a coward’s choice. And while Erryn Cooper was a lot of things, he had never been a coward. “We can make a stretcher or something. We’ll figure it out.” He shrugged. “And who knows. She may wake up soon.” He wasn’t even convincing himself—he’d begun to suspect that her slumber was not caused by any ailment he had knowledge of.

“Yeah.” Gareth nodded. Then he stretched his arms above his head and sighed.

“Are they going to die?”

Both young men looked over in surprise to see Mina staring at them from the huddle her family had made towards the back of the outcropping. Elsya and Andre looked similarly shocked, the young woman curling in on herself and shivering desolately.

“Mina, hush,” Lady Warranhall snapped, drawing her elder daughter to her chest. “They will be fine. Sleep now.”

Her husband stayed quiet, looking at the guards with a question in his eyes. Reluctantly, Erryn shrugged. Jem will be fine, he mouthed.

Lord Warranhall nodded. He understood that Erryn’s silence on Ciara’s condition conveyed that they simply didn’t know what would happen to her.

“If only I were the one who fell,” Elsya said quietly. Erryn and Gareth started slightly and looked at each other. Neither of them had really heard the older maid speak before. She glanced up at them and gave a small, bitter smile. “Cia has always been so good with herbs and things. She’d be able to fix this if she was awake…”

“I’m sure the Guardsmen’s knowledge of field medicine will be enough,” Jorren said softly. Aiden nodded, eyes fixed on Gareth over his brother’s shoulder.

Gareth sighed, rubbing his temples. “I hope so,” he muttered. Then he suddenly stood, clapping Erryn on the shoulder. “I’ll take first watch. Get some rest, brother.”

Erryn opened his mouth to protest, but the look on Gareth’s face brokered no argument. He nodded reluctantly and simply rolled onto his back, letting his eyes slide shut. The light from the small fire they had managed to coax into being flickered, casting shadows on his eyelids. He vaguely heard Aiden offering to stay up with Gareth, saying it would be easier to keep awake with two. His brother and Lady Warranhall protested, but they seemed to be getting overruled.

He probably should be worried about that, but he just couldn’t find the energy to be concerned about one more damn thing. The image of Ciara flying in a circle of pure air while dust and stone thundered around her with her head flung back and arms spread wide etched itself onto his brain as he finally slipped into sleep.

“…ryn…”

He frowned, twitching in his sleep. It couldn’t be his turn for watch already, could it? He’d only just closed his eyes.

“Erryn…”

“Go ‘way, Gare,” he mumbled sleepily, rolling over.

“Erryn!”

“What?!” He jerked up, eyes wide and staring as he whipped his head from side to side. Then he located the owner of the voice that had woken him, and his mouth fell open.

“Ciara?” he rasped, watching the smile spread across her face while she leaned against the rocky wall, arms crossed casually. “You’re awake?” he demanded, getting to his feet warily. He looked around. No one else seemed to have heard the girl; everyone was still asleep. He glanced toward the front of the outcropping where two shadowy forms sat close together: Aiden and Gareth keeping watch. And failing spectacularly, if they had somehow managed not to notice Ciara’s return to consciousness. “Oi,” he hissed, meaning to get his brother’s attention.

Gareth ignored him.

He frowned. Fine, if he wanted to be like that. Careful not to turn his back to the witch, he crept toward the two young men. “Gareth, hey.”

“Won’t do any good,” Ciara said as, once again, he was ignored. He swiveled his head to glare at her. Her smile had turned sad. “They can’t hear you.”

He frowned, feeling his heartbeat start to quicken. He didn’t think Ciara knew he’d seen her perform that spell, but if she thought he knew… There was no telling what spell she’d put on the others. “Did you enchant them?” he spat, hand going to the dagger at his hip. He froze when his fingers touched nothing and looked down. No dagger. No belt even, just his breeches and tunic. What…?

Ciara shrugged. “No. Though I did use a bit of magic on us, in a way.” She offered another small smile, though her dimples remained hidden. “You’re dreaming, Erryn.”