The Byrume lumbered away, snuffling at the air like a beast.
“Did you find it?” the higher pitched voice called out.
“No.”
She waited and listened as they searched for her, never going far from where she hid. Aria closed her eyes. Summoning all the courage in her body she thought about mice, their soft, furry bodies and large keen ears. With a faint glimmer, she crouched upon four delicate paws. Her whiskers and ears twitched as she tested her surroundings. Only her pale eyes, swirling with a rainbow of colors, betrayed that she was not a true mouse. She dashed from her hiding place and into the open, but she’d underestimated her pursuers’ senses.
“There, the mouse!”
The ground shook and branches snapped as they chased her.
She ran faster on four legs than on her usual two and soon widened the gap between them. Again she hid herself. Her heart raced, and her breathing was labored, but she was alive. Concealed in a small clump of ferns, she waited. They were careless, stepping on twigs and scuffing leaves across the forest floor.
The sudden silence made the hairs on her body stand on end. Her flesh tightened with fear, and she felt herself begin to Flicker. The foliage around her started to glow with a pale purple light, soft at first and then bright enough to make her squint. The dewdrops sparkled with rainbows as her concentration broke and her disguise disintegrated.
The snap of twigs and crunch of leaves roared in her ears as they bore down upon her. An obese face, twisted with rage, loomed over her. She crouched, shielding her head with her forearms.
“Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti!”
The spell spilled from her lips in the faintest of whispers, but it was enough. Just as the soil-blackened hands of the Byrume closed around her, Aria was gone.
She opened her eyes a sliver at a time until the forest around her was in full focus. She smoothed her hair with one hand and made a slow turn. The spell had saved her from the Byrumes but it had not taken her home as she intended.
“What went wrong?” she whispered. Now that she was away from the putrid, oily-skinned Byrumes there was time to concentrate. She knelt in the damp moss and breathed in its earthy scent.
The sensation of Transportation was uncomfortable at best. It felt like being pulled apart by scavengers a bit at a time and scattered on the wind. She had learned the spell only two weeks before, and Madame Hekwryn had forbidden her students to use it outside of the classroom until they had mastered it. But she had no choice. Aria focused on The Old One. With her fingers digging into her knees, she said in a firm, steady voice, “Inetaus, pryubus, curundei, myanti.”
This time she didn’t have to open her eyes to know the spell had worked. All around her the sounds of home rang out cheerful, comforting and safe. Hutton hawked his wares as he wheeled his cart up and down the tree’s strong limbs. A group of youngsters giggled and screeched as they raced past her in an energetic game of Pintelle. She remembered her own younger years spent doing the same. When she had the Pintelle in her hand and Sarshyn held the Goffer, they were unstoppable.
Sarshyn.
He would be worried. In a moment of spitefulness she almost decided to let him fret for a while longer, but instead made her way back to the Western Branch. He was waiting for her on the stairs leading to the next level. His glow brightened, and he leapt to his feet.
“Why did you actually go out there? Are you alright?”
Aria stopped a few steps away and swept a few strands of hair off of her face. “I’m fine. Two Byrumes saw me, but I used the Transportation spell to escape.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you?” he asked giving her a hug, then grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She was too relieved by her escape to be angry with him. The pure joy and relief in his honey-gold eyes made her soften even further. “Agreed, as long as you don’t question my character.”
Sarshyn shook his head and grinned. “You’re impossible.”
“And so are you, that’s why we make such a good pair.”
They walked together as far as the granary.
“I’ll see you in the morning for sword training,” she said as he ducked inside.
“I’ll be by to pick you up after breakfast, as usual.” With a wave he disappeared from view.
Aria dawdled on her way home.
Butternut oil lamps flickered in mainrooms, casting their light over dining tables laden with evening meals. Entry stones, flat and polished from Rings of use, were swept clean and awaited the arrivals of their masters and mistresses.
Korynna lived in the cottage with the sky-blue door. The house with the beautifully carved windowsills belonged to Harkinn and his wife Albianne. They expected their first child within the week. Moordecai and his brother, Ismial, shared the house next door. It always smelled of bainberry leaf smoke and pickled needlenuts. She paused to peep in at Gemella and Rees as they danced together without any music. When Rees noticed her, he winked and grinned. Embarrassed, Aria’s glow flushed a deep magenta, and she scurried away. Her home was just up ahead.
Smoke curled from the riverstone chimney. The sun’s rays sifted through the branches and splashed across the thick sod roof. Father believed that thatching was a fire hazard and wooden shingles were far too pricey. She’d grown to love the soft green of it, which her mother tended to with her knowledge of plant magic. The simple boards of the outer walls had silvered with age. In certain light they glimmered like her father’s hair.
She heaved a huge sigh. It would take an imaginative excuse to keep her from punishment this time. Her clothes were smeared with mud; the left leg of her trousers was torn from knee to ankle. They had been her last unpatched pair. Mama would be furious. She hesitated on the entry stone, took a deep breath and pulled the handle down. The door swung inward and the warmth of the room washed over her. Aria hadn’t realized how tired she was until that moment.
At the sound of the door, her mother, Asym, turned away from the stove. When she saw the state of her daughter’s clothing, the welcoming smile on her delicate face turned to a scowl, and the pale emerald glow around her lithe frame darkened.
“What have you done now?”
She’d decided upon the perfect lie on her way home, so without faltering, Aria looked her mother in the eye and said, “I was playing Pintelle with some of the youngsters and fell from one of the lower branches.”
She was too old for children’s games so she held her breath as Mama crossed the room and took her chin between her pine-scented hands.
“Are you hurt?”
Somehow she managed to shake her head no with her face sandwiched between Mama’s strong hands.
“Thank Lady Livnia you’re alright,” she whispered clutching Aria to her breast.
The genuine concern in her mother’s leaf-green eyes as she fussed over her made Aria feel a twinge of guilt; Mama’s earth Guide made her steady and calm, except when it came to her only child.
“No, I’m fine, but I ruined my trousers. I’m sorry.”
“Trousers,” her mother snorted, “you think I’d be concerned over the state of your trousers when you might have been killed?” She was ushering Aria toward the bathing room, “Go wash up and put on some clean clothes. I’ll fix your trousers tomorrow.”
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