Before Isolde could react, both the vision and the presence were gone. She plunged into the rapids, trying to reach out for it.
I need to know more!
But the current slowed, pushing her out, retreating into its space at the back of her mind. She found herself sitting down on the ley line, legs folded underneath her, her palms flat on the surface. When she was sure she was entirely herself, she leapt up and looked around frantically for the others. She spotted Garren first and rushed over.
“It is magic! Magic is at the Nexus! The… the thing that needs my help ismagic itself!”She was babbling and waving her hands wildly, and somewhere inside she distantly realised she must appear completely unhinged, but she didn’t care.
“My lady,” Garren said in his best soothing voice, “slow down. What are you talking about?”
She took a breath, but the words continued spilling out of her. “The Nexus is not the centre of the ley lines; it is the source! The source of all magic is at the Nexus, and it is a… a living thing! And it needs me to… to do something.”
Felix stared at her with a mixture of amazement and worry. Mia was gaping. “The source of…allmagic is some kind of… creature?” she asked, her eyes huge.
“Yes!No!” Isolde said. “It’s not a creature; it’s… something else. Something… vast. I can’t explain it.” She frowned. What was it? A spirit? Why did she not know? She turned abruptly, starting back towards the ley line. “I need more.”
Before she reached it, Garren stepped in front of her and caught her arm. His expression was stony; his grip firm. “My lady, that is enough.”
“No! Let me go!” she snapped, tugging at his hold.
Felix was there instantly, Leif a step behind him, both of them closing the distance at the same time. “Let her go,” Felix said, the undercurrent of a threat unmistakable in his voice.
Leif crossed his arms beside Felix and glowered. Garren hesitated, his eyes flicking between the two of them. With a frustrated grunt, he released Isolde’s arm and turned sharply, stalking off without a word.
Isolde wasted no time in reaching back down to the ley line, ignoring everything else.
I need to know more. Tell me more.
But there was nothing. Only the silent current, a limitless source of power that told her nothing at all.
She slowly stood up. “It’s quiet,” she said, unable to mask her disappointment. “It’s gone.”
26
The Surgelands
The next days were easily the most miserable of their entire journey so far. The landscape grew harsher; the terrain alternating between jagged rocks and uneven gullies. Loose scree shifted underfoot with every step, making progress slow and treacherous. Felix was almost glad they’d lost the horses; at least they did not have to deal with one of them breaking a leg.
If Isolde had been serious about learning to control her magic before, now she was on the verge of obsessive. She kept multiple circles of small rocks floating around her wrist or in front of her at nearly all times, explaining tersely when asked that it helped her expand her focus. She would often walk while flipping through her notebook or scribbling in it, causing her to stumble and fall more than once.
She also stubbornly maintained her frosty distance from Felix, refusing to speak to him, and he did not know what to do about it. The others were always around, and he had no desire to try to talk things out with Isolde in earshot of Mia or, hells forbid, Garren. So he withdrew from the group entirely, going through the motions of their journey north behind a wall of stony silence.
On top of everything else, it started to rain. Not a light drizzle or brief shower, but a steady downpour that lasted for days. Eventually, all their gear was waterlogged, and the chill seeped into their very bones. Isolde created a blazing fire every night in whatever meagre shelter they could find, but that still couldn’t banish the perpetual wet and cold. Poor sleep, blisters on their feet, sore shoulders from having to carry their own packs, and the relentless weather frayed everyone’s tempers. Conversations grew terse and sparse. Even Leif, usually a fountain of stories and jokes, became uncharacteristically quiet.
After days of unrelenting rain that showed no sign of stopping, they reached the edge of what looked like some kind of gigantic crater, with a rocky slope at their feet leading down.
Below them stretched a vast, foreboding landscape. The ground was a patchwork of jagged black stone, twisted crags, and rocks stacked in unnatural looking patterns. In the far distance, the horizon itself looked almost warped through the curtain of rain, and odd colours seemed to shimmer in the air – hues of blue and purple that disappeared when Felix tried to focus on them.
“The Surgelands,” Garren said. “We’re here.”
Felix glanced at Isolde. Her face showed only grim determination. She must have felt him looking at her, because her eyes flickered up and caught his. She looked away immediately, her expression unreadable.
“What’s that?” Leif asked from Felix’s right. He was pointing at a dark mass at the bottom of the slope. Felix squinted, trying to discern the shape, but it was Luella who identified it. “It’s a building!” she called out, relief palpable in her voice.
“Shelter!” Mia said, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face as she wiped rain from her eyes.
Garren looked unconvinced. “It could be a trap. Or otherwise unsafe. We must proceed with caution.”
Felix nodded. “We’ll be careful. But if it’s safe…” He didn’t have to say what they all thought. A dry place, a roof over their heads – even if it was full of holes – sounded like bliss.
