Wow. You really weren’t lying,” Leo was staring at her in disbelief.
“What?”
It was early evening now. They had stationed themselves just off of the road for the night. Muffled chatter, more muted in the dying light, filtered through the trees from the throngs of people Emily knew to still be passing by. Their fire had already been lit by Leo’s magic, its warm glow reminding her of the never-ending one at home. A pot from Leo’s pack was held clumsily over it by a few branches, the gruel cooking in it smelled like a whole lot of nothing. Emily had already laid out her new bedroll and pack, hooray for no more sleeping on the ground!
Emily had just emerged from the thicket of trees surrounding them, old clothes draped over an arm. She’d scouted out the women passing while in line and hoped she’d chosen her new clothes well—though she had drawn the line at a corset and elected for pants instead. Clearly her medieval fashion sense wasn’t anything that Leo, sitting seemingly frozen on his bedroll, had seen before.
“Ok, you’ve convinced me. I believe your story now.”
Emily couldn’t help but let out a laugh, her chest felt lighter than it had in a while, “That bad?”
“Yes.”
Leo grabbed a bowl out of his pack. And, seeming to decide on something, took out another one as well. He didn’t say anything, just filled his own and set down the other, but the bowl left on the ground between them looked like progress. Emily couldn’t help the upturn of her mouth. She felt less alone.
Emily filled her own bowl and sat. The gruel was chunky and tasted about how it smelled, but it was warm, complementing the new cloak sitting snugly across her shoulders. The cold that had seeped into her bones last night and the walk home from a lifetime ago had finally been warded off. If Claire could see me now, Emily was sure she would freak out about the clothes. And the magic.
—speaking of which, she looked up to Leo from her empty bowl: “Could I just try?” Leo closed a book—really a loose collection of papers held together by scraps of leather—he’d been leafing through in the firelight, “I know I might not be able to use it, and I know that it isn’t super effective, but what if I can use have magic? Maybe people from my world can as well. Plus, it might be nice to have an escape route like you did with those knights.”
“I don’t think-”
“Can I just try? I’m supposed to be here for a reason, right? I think my grandmother, somehow, knew at least partly about all of this.”
“Fine.”
Leo, for all of his bravado, wasn’t the best teacher. No, she couldn’t concentrate and “feel the living energy within her.” Though not for lack of trying. Besides that option, Leo honestly seemed stumped, face again schooled into boredom as he demonstrated his magic. It was little things, lighting again their dying fire, causing a twig to splinter, melting a bronze-colored coin ( he’d had to take a break after that one). What it all seemed to have in common, if Leo’s closed eyes were any indication, was concentration. It seemed almost meditative.
So that’s what she did.
Leo raised his eyebrows at her plan but didn’t comment as he retreated onto his bedroll with his back to her. Scooting off of her own and onto solid ground, she closed her eyes.
There was the obvious darkness. The sounds of crickets and tree branches creaking in the wind. A trilling birdcall that she’d never heard anything like. The ground was… ground-like. Nothing special. A bit less cushy than it had been last night. Her hands went to it and felt fine dirt. They circled, feeling a sparse patch of grass by her shoe. The air smelled like fading campfire, fresher, somehow, than any in Nevis. Even than the one in Sylvia’s hearth. Mixed in was an earthy, cinnamon-y smell that Emily knew came from the trees. She didn’t feel any “special energy,” it all just… was. She waited, straining her senses.
As the minutes passed, everything came sharper into focus. The noises were more discernible—separate. Suddenly, even without the silence, she heard that undercurrent again. The hum. She tugged at it, or maybe it tugged at her and suddenly it was like electricity was thrumming in her bones. Ricocheting and burning and freezing and static. It built and built and she had nowhere to put it. Her jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, and where was it going to go—
And then it stopped. Emily blinked her eyes open. The fire had long since gone out, but in the light of the tiny crescent sliver above her head, she saw the hole her pinkie had singed into her breeches.
Leo had rolled onto his back, snoring faintly into the sounds Emily was now hesitant to examine more closely. That was enough for one night.
Days passed as they made their way closer to the border. The air grew colder and people scarcer. According to Leo, the ceasefire was just that, a ceasefire, and a recent one at that. The caution and anxiety that a centuries-long war had left wouldn’t be gone so quickly. Coming from Earth, Emily understood.
Leo had been dumbfounded to hear that she could use magic. Sylvia had to be from here, it was the only explanation Emily could think of. Which meant that Emily’s parents had been from here. Why keep it all a secret?
They continued to camp off trail, Emily meditating nightly, trying to gain some measure of control before promptly collapsing onto her bedroll in exhaustion. Slowly but surely though, she was making progress. There were, admittedly, a couple of complaining sessions here and there, because jeez, magic did not like being told what to do. Things would be so much easier if they still had the language. And they nearly did, because according to Leo, there had been a family who rediscovered it, though they’d refused to share it with pro-magic kingdoms despite the promise of military protection from Mercié. They’d been murdered by Razietian assassins. Emily thought of the cease-fire, the promise of peace, and hoped that knowledge would never be needed.
The trading posts dwindled along with the people, though there were still enough that they could find more food if need be. Emily couldn’t help but notice the military—knight-litary?—presence growing. The group of knights led by the man in the purple cape passed by frequently, seeming to be on some kind of endless patrol up and down the road. With each passage, Leo became more hesitant to leave the cover of the forest. Emily couldn’t exactly say why—after all, having magic wasn’t something you could tell based on just looking at someone—and of course Leo wouldn’t explain if she asked him, but she did understand it. She almost felt like they were being watched.
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