The Darkling Child

“He caught me by surprise, Paxon.” He could hear the bitterness in her voice. “That never should have happened. I was so intent on watching you cross the roadway and then disappear behind the tavern—so certain you would call for my help …”

She trailed off, her voice breaking. “You aren’t the first to have that happen,” he said quietly. “I’m just grateful you’re alive. I was scared to death for you.”

“What happened to the boy?”

Paxon grimaced. “He got away in the confusion. We’ll find him later. First, we have to get you well again.”

She was silent for a long time. “I don’t know if that’s possible,” she whispered. “You can’t imagine what it was like inside that container, everything dark and no way to get free. If you hadn’t—”

“But I did,” he said, interrupting her with a hushing sound. “Just try to forget about it. Just think about sleeping now.”

When they were inside her room, he laid her on the bed and poured water from a pitcher on the dresser into a glass, holding it for her while she drank it down. He stayed with her while she finished it, then brought her a second glass and held her while she drank that one, too.

“So thirsty,” she mumbled.

He put the glass on the bedside table, took off her boots, and pulled back the bedding, easing her beneath the covers. He rose and walked toward the door. “Go to sleep now. I’ll see you when you wake.”

“Paxon!” She called his name with some urgency, bringing him back around. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me just yet. Please.”

He came back over and sat down beside her. He could see the fear in her eyes. “I’ll stay if you want.”

“I just don’t want to be alone right now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“Would you lie down beside me? Would you just hold me for a little while? Until I stop shaking?”

He did as she asked, snuggling close to her and putting his arm across her so that she could feel his warmth. She scooted back against him, burrowing close. “Thanks,” she said so softly he almost missed it.

She was asleep before long, and the shaking stopped. He stayed with her anyway, wanting to make sure. But he also stayed because he liked holding her, liked being close. And for the first time since Leofur, he found that he needed the comfort of another body.

THIRTEEN

“THE MAGIC YOU POSSESS IS A VERY OLD MAGIC,” ARCANNEN explained. “Centuries old. And only members of a single family inherit it. When it first surfaced, it was called a wishsong, and the name has stuck.”

Reyn was sitting with the sorcerer in the stern of the Sprint, shoulder-to-shoulder in the small space, both of them looking ahead at where Lariana stood behind the controls of the two-man, guiding the airship east. She had taken over at Arca

This did not seem to bother Arca

“But it was a different sort of magic that emerged. Singing generated the magic of the wishsong, creating a fresh reality, changing and enhancing or diminishing in the process. The girl, Brin, had the stronger magic at first. Whenever she wanted to impact the world around her in a physical way, she needed only to imagine it and sing it into being. She was an extremely powerful magic wielder, and she nearly lost her life to her own magic. Her brother, Jair, had the use of the wishsong, too, but for him, it wasn’t real. He could only create the impression of something happening, not the reality. Smoke and mirrors were his stock in trade—although that changed for him later in life—but it proved to be enough to save his sister.”

Arca

Reyn nodded. “I guess so. I know I can make them feel things, but I don’t necessarily set out to make them feel anything in particular. I just want the music to reach them.” He hesitated. “But stirring up emotions and recalling memories is only part of it. The magic kills people, too.”

“Yes, but that’s not peculiar to you. All of the Ohmsfords who inherited use of the wishsong had that power. And almost all of them killed someone, intentionally or not. They were all faced with life-and-death situations in which either they fought back using their magic or they died. Hasn’t it been like that for you?”

Reyn glanced at Lariana, not wanting her to hear this part. But even though she was not looking right at him, he knew she was waiting to hear his answer. There was nothing he could do to avoid it unless he refused to continue.

“I haven’t tried to kill anyone. But when I defend myself, I can’t seem to control it. I become so emotionally distraught that the magic gets away from me. It lashes out with such power I can’t seem to stop it. Then people die. That’s what happened with the Fortrens when they attacked me. It’s happened in other places, too.”

For just an instant, he thought about explaining how he would become temporarily catatonic afterward. But he did not feel comfortable revealing that he suffered from such a debilitating and dangerous weakness.

Instead, he kept his gaze steady and said, “Can you teach me how to stop this? Can you help me do better about controlling the magic of this wishsong?”

Arca

Reyn glanced at Lariana, but she was looking out onto the horizon again. He waited a moment, hoping her gaze would shift, but she remained steadily focused on the way forward, as if no longer listening. “What do I have to do to for you in return?” he asked Arca

“Nothing! I want to do this. I want to help you. Do you think I haven’t been subject to the same misgivings and fears that have haunted you? Do you think that mastering my magic was any less traumatizing or difficult? No, Reyn. It is like this for all of us who possess such gifts. And you do possess a gift of great worth. You will come to see.”

The boy nodded and found himself suddenly eager to start with his lessons. “When can we begin?”

“Very soon, but I have a prior obligation I must satisfy first. We travel now to make that happen. I am hopeful you will come with me. Perhaps you can even help. It would be your choice, of course. But, in fact, I can set you down and leave you wherever you like and come back to find you another time.”