Page 36 of The Arrow and the Alder

“R eady?” Abecka asked, after drawing enchantments of glamour on Seph’s brow, in blood. It was supposed to hide them from sight, though Abecka hadn’t the time to hide them from a person’s other senses, or the energy. So they would still need to be careful, and Abecka’s injuries made them slow.

Seph slung her bow across her shoulders, careful not to smear the enchantments. She’d found her bow on a weapons’ rack near their exit, where Alder had found his. “Yes.”

“Stay close; stay quiet.” Abecka waited a moment more before cracking the door open and peering into the hall.

Seph’s heart pounded and her palms sweated.

“Let’s move,” Abecka whispered as she staggered out into the hall. Rather than go left, as Alder had gone, Abecka turned right, moving through a low archway and into a part of the sanctuary Seph had never been. The halls were smaller here, but voices sounded around the corner up ahead, and they both ducked into the shadows until the robed archivists passed. When it was safe, Abecka hobbled forward again.

She led Seph through a smaller door and up a stair that hugged the innards of a tower, though she had to stop a handful of times to catch her breath. They reached the top, pushed through another door, and strode across a high bridge protected by a roof. Callant spread out far below them, and a hungry wind snatched at Seph’s hair as they strode to the small iron-ribbed door standing at the other side.

There, Abecka stopped. “Basrain’s chambers,” she whispered.

“What if it’s not here?” Seph asked.

“Let us both hope that it is.” Abecka closed her eyes and raised her palms to the door. Meanwhile, Seph drew an arrow from her quiver and set it upon her bow, just in case the room was occupied. Abecka said something below Seph’s hearing, and seconds later, that increasingly familiar power tingled over Seph’s skin, particularly at the ring upon her hand.

The door cracked open.

Abecka sighed and wiped her brow, fatigued from the eloit she’d just spent.

“Let me check first,” Seph said, and she pushed past Abecka to peer into the room, bow ready.

A large antechamber spread beyond, illuminated by floating lanterns and a blazing hearth, but there was no sign of life. Emboldened, Seph shoved the door open with her foot, her bow still at the ready as she stepped into the room, out of the cold and wind while Abecka followed. The hearth was nearly as tall as it was wide—so large Seph could have easily slept within—and if she’d thought Callant’s halls were stuffed with history, Basrain’s personal chambers put them all to shame. His walls spilled over with books and artifacts, all of which pooled onto the floor because he simply didn’t have room to house them. A wide desk stood amidst the hoard, smothered in paper and open books, reminding Seph of a sinking ship.

There was no sign of the coat.

Abecka tiptoed toward a narrow door at the back of the antechamber, pushed it in, and stepped inside as if following some invisible thread. Seph cast one more glance about the cluttered room before following.

Basrain’s bedchamber was dark. Draperies were pulled shut over what appeared to be large windows, and an enormous four-poster bed stood off to the side. The furniture was exquisite, hand carved and smooth, and Abecka’s hand trailed every surface, as if feeling with eloit instead of touch. Finally, she knelt beside an armoire and opened a low drawer.

Where the coat gleamed.

Seph’s lungs expanded with relief, and for a moment, the two of them stood in wonder, gazing upon this ray of sunshine trapped in a drawer.

“It’s going to be difficult for you to carry both the coat and your bow,” Abecka said.

They exchanged a glance.

“Maybe there’s a satchel around here somewhere,” Seph said.

“We must be quick about it.”

Seph grabbed the coat. Warmth and tingling swept up her arms, startling her with the memory of what had happened last time, but the power remained—thankfully—docile. Seph tucked the coat beneath her arm and followed Abecka back into the antechamber, where they both searched for something to contain it.

Seph had just spied a satchel hanging from the gnomon of a sundial when Abecka lifted…Seph didn’t know what it was. It was an enormous piece of fabric ribbed with wooden braces, almost like a sail, attached to a rope harness. “What is that?”

“I believe it is a way for Basrain to escape in case of an emergency.” Abecka smiled conspiratorially. “I think…he intended for this to catch wind like a sail and slow his fall.”

A rock dropped in Seph’s stomach. “You mean we jump?”

As if the saints had conspired to force their hand, voices sounded beyond Basrain’s door.

Abecka and Seph froze, their gazes met, and mutual understanding passed between them. Seph followed Abecka toward the balcony, grabbing the small satchel she’d found and shoving the coat into it. “Are you sure it’s going to work?” Seph hissed.

“I can help keep it aloft.” Abecka worked the harness while her gaze jumped to the door, which opened just as they stepped onto Basrain’s balcony.

“…try teaching her how to—” Basrain’s words stopped as he took one step into the room and spotted them.

Seph wondered how he’d so immediately seen through Abecka’s enchantments—and why Abecka’s enchantments were growing increasingly warm—when she spotted the figure behind him. A woman. The woman, the one Seph had seen with Massie in Harran.

Only this time, she wasn’t wearing a mask. Without it, Seph realized this woman wasn’t just trying to hide a face.

She’d worn a mask to hide that she was something other .

She possessed human features, but there was nothing human about them. Her face was too pale, a hollow of severity, bones sharpened with judgment. Her eyes were as dark and cold as a midwinter night, seeming to reflect every age that had passed before them and every age that was to come. Despite the chill, she wore only a sleeveless slip of black satin, as if she didn’t feel the cold—as if she didn’t feel anything in this body that served only to contain a power too vast for this world.

A wash of premonition swept over Seph’s skin, raising all the tiny hairs upon her arms. It was never Massie they should’ve feared; it was this woman.

This witch .

She was the reason Seph’s grandfather had hidden the coat. The reason he’d made a replica and never told a soul about his past. To protect them all from her, whatever she was.

The symbol upon Seph’s forehead went cold, and Seph knew that Abecka’s glamour had been snuffed out completely.

“I should have known…” Abecka said with a tremor in her voice that frightened Seph.

The woman regarded Abecka as if she were observing more than this time and this place, and her accompanying smile sent a shiver over Seph’s skin.

“And you have brought me Jakobián’s heir,” the witch replied. Her words were like tendrils, reaching around Seph, poking and probing and searching for weakness. “I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, child of Light.”

“Now, Josephine!” Abecka yelled, and Seph didn’t hesitate. She grabbed one side of the harness while Abecka grabbed the other, and together they jumped.

The witch’s face contorted with fury, and she ran at them. “No!”

The witch pushed forth a palm, and brilliant green light shot forth, like lightning— what sort of power was this? —but the bolt shot right past as Seph went airborne, falling free. Seph’s heart dropped into her stomach, and she screamed, but only a second passed before she was jerked upward by the force of the expanding sail. It caught the wind with a violent snap, fabric pulling taut as the ribs stretched, and they were gliding gracefully across the sky. Bitter cold air stung Seph’s eyes and threw back her hair, tossing it about like a pennant in the wind. She gripped the harness so tightly her hands ached.

Beside her, Abecka murmured incessantly, weaving enchantments that Seph could only guess while she struggled to hold on. Already, her palms slipped and the joints in her fingers strained, but the ground was still too far away.

Seph wondered how they were flying in the direction they needed to go and realized Abecka must have been guiding that too with her words. Their sail continued to drift slowly down, the world oddly quiet and calm beneath them. Their sail tilted left, and they dropped steadily, floating over the open plain but heading toward the ridge they’d descended on their way into Callant.

She thought she saw Alder and the others galloping toward that ridge, and then a new set of horses exploded out of Callant’s front gate.

“Abecka!” Seph yelled.

“I see them!” Abecka yelled back.

It was Massie, accompanied by at least half a dozen masked riders, though one stood out from the rest. The witch. She looked like some bride of Morat, crowned in cruelty and dressed in shadows, come to damn all the living.

Alder glanced up and, with no small amount of surprise, noticed Seph and Abecka. He started yelling orders at the others, holding them back to intercept Abecka and Seph.

“On three, let go!” Abecka yelled. “One…two?—”

A gale struck the sail with such force that Seph’s hands slipped and she was falling. Abecka too.

Seph hit the ground hard, tumbling and rolling over her bow as it snapped and flew from her shoulders. She finally stopped and shoved herself to her feet, struggling to catch her breath. Her first thought was Abecka, whom she spotted a few yards away, swaying as she stood. She was already so weary, and all the enchantments she’d muttered to keep them safely airborne seemed to have taxed her greatly. The sail itself was hanging from a nearby tree, dangling and broken—she could not find her bow anywhere—and then Alder was there, grabbing Seph’s arm and hoisting her to her feet. His expression was grim as his gaze raked over her––

The earth exploded.

It was as though a projectile had struck, but there was nothing. A patch of ground was simply obliterated, and Seph would’ve fallen had it not been for Alder’s steadying grip. His horse, however, bolted ahead in fright just before another patch of ground burst open to their left, and another directly in front of them, sending them both flying. Seph’s hand slipped from Alder’s, and she was rolling again as clumps of broken earth rained down upon her.

Alder cursed and scrambled to Seph as those clods of dirt fell. “Can you stand?” he asked.

The others waited just at the base of the ridge.

“We can’t leave?—”

“Get her out of here!” Abecka yelled at Alder.

Alder looked like he wanted to argue, but his gaze shot back to their quickly approaching pursuers, and he grabbed Seph’s hand instead.

“No, I’m not leaving—” Seph started.

“ Go !” Abecka screamed at her. “The witch wants the coat, and nothing will stop her from taking it, but this power was given to you , my Josephine. Only you can release it! She realizes that now! Take Josephine, Alder. Get her as far away as possible. The witch is too much for all of us, but I can at least buy you time.”

But Seph would not move. “Please, no…I won’t leave you?—”

Abecka knelt upon one knee, stabbed her fingers firmly into the earth, and shut her eyes.

The earth trembled.

Seph staggered toward Alder as the ground broke in two. A great and jagged chasm appeared, stretching in either direction, widening even as Seph watched, marveling at this new power that separated them from Abecka and their pursuers.

“Run!” Abecka yelled as she threw a sphere of blue light at the witch. The witch waved a hand, and the light dispersed, but Abecka was already throwing another one, while Massie yelled at his men to find a way to Alder.

What was this power that Abecka wielded? Why had she not shown this before?

Serinbor and the others were galloping up the steep incline now, though Rian had stopped at the bottom, waiting, his horse pacing, while arrows rained around them.

A shock of pain lanced through Seph’s shoulder—from an arrow—and she cried out, stumbling forward as she ran. Alder cursed, and she forced her feet forward, each step weighing heavier. Warmth soaked her tunic. She was losing blood, and fast.

“I have to carry you,” Alder said, holding tightly to her arm, and truthfully, it was the only thing keeping Seph upright.

“I can make it…You can’t carry me to the ridge…it’s too far.”

He pulled her to a halt. “Not like this.” And then he changed. Right before her eyes. His figure compressed and stretched outward, into a stag.

The stag from the woods.

Seph stared in shock as the stag bowed its head and antlers, raking impatiently at the ground.

He meant for her to ride his back.

More arrows fell, Seph’s vision swam, but she managed to hoist her leg over his back. He waited a second more, as if to be sure that she was secure, and then he was running. Seph heard a scream, and when she glanced back she saw Abecka’s body shoot impossibly high into the air before some invisible force threw it violently down. Abecka struck the earth and bounced a handful of times before rolling to a stop. She did not get up again.

No .

Seph opened her lips to cry out, but dizziness took her. She laid her head against Alder’s neck, holding fast as hot tears streamed down her face, letting him carry her away.

And despite her haze of pain and grief, her final thought was how nice it was for someone to carry her for a change.