Trial by Fire (Worldwalker 1)

I left him to die.

You failed, Lillian. You killed his body but not his spirit. He taught me how to spirit walk. Sooner or later I’m going to figure out how to worldjump, and I’ll leave this place. Your battles are yours to fight. I don’t belong here.

And what happens when Gideon or Alaric comes to your magicless, mind-blind world to pillage it for resources? Will you still sit on the fence then?

Alaric? He wants to help me. He would never come to my world to pillage—

What did I tell you? Everyone wants to use you. You think Alaric would allow you to claim three of his braves out of the kindness of his heart? Or did he plan on you claiming them, loving them, so you would join him? I was seduced by that dream once, too. I started down this path looking for a way to rid my world of the Woven so no more Outlander children would have to grow up in fear as Rowan did. Have you experienced his night terrors yet? Have you woken up next to him when he’s sweating and crying out?

No. But I can feel the shadow and sadness inside him when he looks up at the trees in the woods. I hate it like I’ve never hated anything.

I know. I hate it, too. The Woven are Rowan’s sad shadow. That’s why I begged the shaman to teach me how to worldjump. There are an infinite number of universes. Somewhere out there is a world that figured out how to eradicate the Woven. I was going to go there and learn how to free all of the Outlanders. I was going to save the man I loved from the monsters that hunted him in his nightmares. And look at me now. I was a fool, but I was a powerful fool. And so are you. Ask Alaric what he really wants from you. Open your eyes. Get angry. Your fight has only just begun.

* * *

Someone was hitting Lily hard on the chest. Thump, thump, thump. It was almost like a heartbeat, except it came from the outside. Her eyes focused. Carrick was pounding on her chest like he was trying to crack her in two. Hot liquid surged up the back of her throat and spurted out of her mouth and nose. Carrick grabbed her by the neck, twisting her head to the side. As the water poured out of her, she found the strength to fight him. She pushed at his hands and kicked her legs, her hoarse voice pleading for him to stop.

Oh God. He’s really going to kill me this time.

“Enough! You’re scaring her!” Tristan yelled. He pushed Carrick aside.

“Tristan,” Lily gasped. She reached out her arms to him, her best friend. A big man came and helped Tristan pull Carrick off her.

“He comes down every day,” she continued through hiccups, scrambling hysterically to get away from her tormentor. “He’s been hurting me. He’s been—” Lily couldn’t find the right words to describe what Carrick did to her. She thought it instead and saw Tristan recoil for a moment before he pulled her close to him.

“Caleb, she thinks he’s Carrick. Get him out of here,” Tristan ordered.

Carrick looked sad. He went sort of limp, and Caleb didn’t have any trouble dragging him away through the snow. The last thought Lily had was that Carrick was wet and nearly naked. He might freeze to death if she was lucky.

* * *

Lily felt Tristan’s arm, heavy and smooth, draped over her shoulder. They were lying on their sides and he was tucked against her back.

She’d woken up with Tristan holding her like this before, but now instead of sheets, pillows, and white curtains dancing on the breeze, Lily saw only dry leaves and dirt.

Her arm reached out to hold the hand of another boy. Caleb lay across from her, his giant hand swallowing her wrist and his boulder-like shoulder rising and falling with his gusty breaths. The ground under them was seared and brown. The air radiated up from their little circle, wavering with heat like a mirage. Lily’s heat.

She edged out from under Tristan’s encircling arm and sat up. The ring of heat Lily had created was edged with ice and snow. She looked up and saw snow hissing into steam above her as if it were hitting an invisible dome that vaporized it.

Lily tried to move her leg. Her ankle was being held. She looked down and saw Rowan sitting up, guarding them while they slept.

“I’m not Carrick,” he whispered.

A flood of images from the night before rolled over Lily from Rowan’s perspective. How she’d screamed and scratched him. How she’d shied away from his hands and cried. How he’d burned and froze, burned and froze, over and over to keep her alive.

Lily reached for him and pulled him into the circle of heat. Tristan and Caleb rolled over and complained wordlessly through the gooey glue of sleep. Rowan’s hand was cold. She held it close to her chest and tried to forget everything that they and their doppelgängers had done to each other. A nagging thought pestered her mind as it trudged back toward unconsciousness.

Something troubling about Alaric.

It was still snowing at dawn when Lily awoke. The guys were up and clustered around the cauldron, talking quietly. She wanted to get up and join them, but she couldn’t. Lily could barely lift her head.

“She’s awake,” Rowan said, ending their conversation. He looked over at her.

Who am I?

You’re Rowan.