Magic Study (Poison Study 2)

I stared at the Story Weaver in confusion; his words didn’t make sense. Friend or foe?

“You said you were here to guide. Guide us where?”

“Banish him now!” Leif yelled. “He will deceive you. He’s probably in league with Tula’s kidnapper and is trying to delay us.”

“Your fear remains strong,” Story Weaver said to Leif. “You are not ready to face your story, preferring instead to surround yourself with knots. Some day, they will strangle you. Your choice was to decline our help, but your tangles threaten to squeeze the life out of your sister. This must be corrected.” Extending his hand to me, he said, “You are ready. Leave Kiki and come with me.”

“Where?”

“To see your story.”

“How? Why?”

Story Weaver refused to answer. He radiated calm patience as if he could stand there with his arm extended all night, waiting.

Kiki looked back at me. Go with Moon Man, she urged. Hungry. Tired. Want Topaz.

Smell? Bad? I asked.

Hard road, but Lavender Lady strong. Go.

I returned my bow to its holder and dismounted.

“Yelena, no!” Leif cried. He clutched Rusalka’s reins tight to his chest.

I paused in shock. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name. Now you care what happens to me? Sorry, it’s too late in the game for that to work. Frankly, I don’t want to deal with your troubles. I have enough of my own. And we have to find Tula’s attacker before he takes another, so it’s imperative that we meet with the clan elders. If this is what I need to do, then so be it.” I shrugged. “Besides, Kiki told me to go.”

“And you would listen to a horse instead of your brother?”

“Until now my brother has refused to acknowledge any connection with me since I have arrived in Sitia. I trust Kiki.”

Leif snorted in exasperation. “You spent your life in Ixia. You know nothing of these Sandseeds.”

“I learned who to trust.”

“A horse. You’re a fool.” He shook his head.

There was no sense telling him about how I had trusted an assassin, a magician who had tried to kill me twice and two soldiers who had jumped me in the Snake Forest. All four now dear to my heart.

“When will I be back?” I asked Story Weaver.

“With the sun’s first ray.”

I unsaddled Kiki and gave her a quick rubdown while she ate some oats. Then I exchanged her feed bag for water. She drained it, and I placed the empty sacks near her tack.

Apprehension about this strange trip began to crawl along my stomach. Wait for me? I asked Kiki.

She snorted and whacked me with her tail, moving away to search for some sweet grass to graze on. Ask a dull-witted question.

I met Leif’s stony gaze for a moment, then walked over to Story Weaver. He hadn’t moved. Kiki had called him Moon Man. Before I took his hand, I asked, “What’s your name?”

“Moon Man will do.”

I studied his colored skin. “Why indigo?”

A slow grin spread over his lips. “A cooling color to help soothe the fire between you and your brother.” Then, a sheepish look. “It is my favorite.”

I laid my hand in his. His palm felt like velvet. His warmth soaked into my bones and flowed up my arm. Magic shimmered and the world around us melted. I began to uncoil, feeling my body loosen and elongate as if it transformed into a string. The individual strands that entwined within my life’s story began to separate and diverge so I could see the many events that had formed my life.

Some of my history was familiar; I sought the pleasant memories, watching them as if I stood outside a window.

This is why you need me, Moon Man’s voice floated through the scene before my eyes. You would stay here. My job is to guide you to the proper thread.

Memories blurred around me. I closed my eyes as the visions swirled. When the air settled once more, I opened them.

I sat in the middle of a living area. Couches constructed of lianas and a glass-topped table surrounded me. A young boy about eight or nine years old reclined across from me on the wooden floor. He wore a pair of green short pants. With his hands behind his head and his elbows jutting out, he stared at the leaf-covered ceiling. About ten bone dice littered the ground between us.

“I’m bored,” the boy said.

The appropriate response popped into my mind. “How about Onesies? Or Two Through the Skull?” I scooped up the dice and shook them.

“Baby games,” he said. “Let’s go down to the jungle floor and explore!” Leif jumped to his feet.

“I don’t know. How about we go swinging with Nutty?”

“If you want to play silly baby games with Nutty, go ahead. I’m going to explore and probably make a big discovery. Maybe I’ll find the cure to the rotting disease. I’ll be famous. They’ll probably elect me the next clan leader.”

Not wanting to miss any important discoveries and ensuing fame, I agreed to go with him. With a quick call to our mother, we left our tree dwelling and climbed down the Palm ladder into the cooler air of the jungle’s floor. The soft ground felt spongy under my bare feet.

I followed Leif through the jungle, marveling at the youthful energy pumping through my six-year-old body. A part of me knew the truth, that I was older and not really here, that this was a vision. Yet I found I didn’t care, and I cartwheeled down the jungle path just for fun.

“This is serious,” Leif scolded. “We’re explorers. We need to collect samples. You gather some leaves while I search for flower petals.”

When he turned his back, I stuck my tongue out at him, but I grabbed some tree leaves all the same. A quick movement among the branches distracted me. I froze, scanning the area. Clinging to a sapling hung a young black-and-white valmur. Brown eyes bulged from its small face, peering at me.

I smiled and whistled at the creature. It scampered a bit higher, then turned its gaze back to mine and flicked its long tail. The animal wanted to play. I followed, copying its movements through the jungle. We climbed vines, swung and dodged around the big buttress roots of a Rosewood Tree.

I stopped when I heard a distant voice. Straining to listen, I heard Leif calling for me. I would have ignored him, playing was more fun than collecting leaves, but I thought he said something about a Ylang-Ylang Tree. Mother would bake us star fruit pies if we brought her Ylang-Ylang Flowers for her perfumes.

“Coming,” I shouted, jumping down to the jungle floor. When I turned to wave goodbye to the little valmur, it startled and dashed high up into the Rosewood Tree. A feeling of unease settled over me like a mist. I searched the nearby branches, looking for necklace snakes—the main predator of valmurs. With my gaze focused on the tree canopy, I almost tripped over a man.

I jumped back in surprise. He sat on the ground with his right leg splayed out and the other tucked in close. His hands gripped his left ankle. Torn and stained with dirt and sweat, his clothing hung in tatters. Leaves and tendrils clung to his black hair.

The adult part of my mind screamed. Mogkan! Run! But my young self remained unafraid.

“Thank fate!” Mogkan cried as

relief smoothed the worry from his face. “I’m lost. I think I broke my ankle. Can you help?”

I nodded. “I’ll go get my brother—”

“Wait. Just help me up first.”

“Why?”

“To see if I can walk. If my ankle is really broken, you’ll have to get more help.”

My adult consciousness knew he lied, but I couldn’t prevent my child self from stepping closer. I reached out a hand; he grasped it then yanked me down. In one swift motion he grabbed me and muffled my cry with a damp cloth. He pressed it tight against my mouth, forcing a sweet aroma into my nose.

The jungle spun around me. Stay awake! Stay awake! I yelled to my body, but the blackness crept closer.

Struggling in Mogkan’s arms, my adult self knew what would happen next. Mogkan would take me to Ixia, and I would be raised in the orphanage of Reyad’s father, General Brazell, so when I reached maturity they could try to take the magic out of me as if milking a cow. All so Mogkan could increase his magical powers and help Brazell take over control of Commander Ambrose and Ixia. Even knowing the ending didn’t make me feel any better about my abduction.

Leif’s face in the bushes was the last thing my young self saw before the darkness claimed me. And that was truly horrifying.

The vision faded. I stood with Moon Man on a dark plain. “Did Leif really see what happened to me?” I asked Story Weaver. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t he tell our parents?” They could have sent a rescue party, or tried to get me back. Better for them to know their child’s fate than to guess and wonder for years.

As I thought about Leif, my resentment grew. He had robbed me of the chance to have a childhood, to have a bedroom and loving parents, to learn about the jungle with my father and distill perfumes with my mother, to swing through the trees with Nutty and to play games instead of memorizing Ixia’s Code of Behavior.

“Why?” I demanded.