Roses (32 page)

“We are working to evacuate Magics from The Neighbor and Pervorocco. Though most left at the beginning of the Magical Cleansing, there are still many in hiding that fear for their lives.”

“If they have not already been captured, tortured, and killed,” added one man.

“We are trying to take them to the Wild Lands,” continued Asha. “Once we are there we can regroup and fight back.”

“It is the second bout of the Red Wars,” said a woman.

“The Red Wars never ended,” someone else replied.

Beauty glanced at each of them in turn, her chin jutted out and her arms folded.

“What is this to me?” she asked.

“We are taking you to the Wild Lands.”

“What if I do not wish to go?”

Asha frowned. “You must,” she said. “It is written in scripture—you will lead our battle.”

“What scripture is this?”

Asha began to mutter the verses and the other Magic Bloods joined in:

The gods did build the hills for those,
That does good deeds for one they chose.

They shelter with old spells and might,
For one who comes to them to fight.

They know not what that thing might be,
It comes to keep their people free.

It shall lead the Magic to task,
And wage war with a silver grasp.

Deaths shall rein and family ties
Will be broken by one with violet eyes.

When the time comes, it will lead,
To keep those with Magic freed.

Beauty’s body shook and sweat dripped down her spine.

“And what if I will not do it?” she said. “What if I refuse?”

There was a long silence.

“The ship leaves Sago’s docks tomorrow,” said Asha. “And you will come with us.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
EVEN

The Magic Bloods

B
eauty sat with her back to Asha and the other Magic Bloods. They would not let her leave and see Champ so she was sulking. If she was as powerful as they said, then she supposed that she should be able to do some sort of Magic to force her way out, but she did not know how. Instead, she sat with her head in her hands.

They were talking logistics, but she understood little of what they spoke of. She did not wish to leave Pervorocco. She had promised Beast that she would return and compared to the darkness of Sago, the enchanted castle did not seem so terrible. She tried to think of Beast, wondering if he was watching her in the corridor of mirrors, but her instincts told her nothing.

“Beauty?”

It was Asha, and she sat in front of her daughter so that Beauty could not turn away.

“Where is my amulet?” Beauty asked.

“You do not have it?”

Beauty was about to explain what had happened with Eli in the temple, but then she thought better of it.

“I left it in Sago before the Magic Cleansing,” she said instead.

“But I entrusted it to you!”

Beauty shrugged.

“The Houses are the ancient people and those with Magic Blood have ancient Magic,” hissed Asha. “When a member dies, they pass their amulet onto the next generation.”

“You are not dead.”

Asha sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I might as well be. When I gave birth to you I gave you everything, do you not see? My amulet—my ancient Magic—everything! If it were not for him then I would not be here. Oh, Beauty, he said that you should have it with you always!”

“Who is
he
?”

“Your father.” Asha had dropped her voice.

“What is my father’s name?”

“No one knows that. Even I do not know that.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“I trained as his apprentice. I left Sago to travel the realm and find teachers when I was young. There are distant countries that know far more than we do, and I found your father on one of my journeys. I was very lucky.”

Beauty snorted.

“I have always watched over you, Beauty. You are my daughter.”

“I cannot do what you want me to.”

“You can and you will, Beauty. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

When Beauty did not answer, Asha left her and went back to her meeting. The Magic Bloods talked long into the night in whispers until finally Beauty was handed a bedroll and told to make herself comfortable on the floor.

“I will know if you try to run,” said one man. “I am a sensor and I feel things before they happen.”

She gave him a withering look before rolling over.

“Goodnight, daughter,” whispered Asha, extinguishing the oil lamp.

She received no reply.

Beauty was surprised to find that she was tired for the first time in days. Yawning, she closed her eyes and slipped instantly into a troubled sleep. She saw a man with dark skin and white hair smiling at her and then she saw her amulet and it was held in the hands of someone who she knew—someone who she feared. She felt footsteps and she saw gray shadows.

She woke suddenly, knowing that something was wrong and there was no time to run. Others were waking around her with startled grunts and cries.

“How did we not feel them?” cried someone.

“How did they get here without us noticing?”

Asha sat up, her face pale with fear.

“I did not dream it!” she hissed. Her eyes fell on Beauty. “Did you know?”

But Beauty did not have time to reply. The door burst open and gray men ran down the stairs and into the room, holding rifles and swords. The bang of gunfire exploded and smoke clogged the air. Blood splattered across Beauty’s face as the man next to her was shot three times in the head. She screamed, but her voice was drowned by more shouts and cries.

“Beauty! Get out of here!” she heard Asha yell.

A gray man caught sight of her and swung his rifle in her direction. Before he could take aim, a command was shouted and he shrieked in agony. He crumpled to a pool of skin on the floor, every bone in his body smashing in an almighty crack.

There was more gunfire and more yells as State officials fell to the ground, destroyed, and Magic Bloods were shot through again and again. Red blood streaked the ceiling and stained the floor. Beauty could taste the metallic stickiness of it in the air. She ran to the stairs, taking advantage of a moment when the State officials were preoccupied with a Magic Blood throwing visions at them from the middle of the room.

As she was about to flee, something grabbed her arm and dragged her back, smacking her hard against the wall so that the breath was knocked out of her.

“I have found you, Cousin!” hissed a voice in her ear.

She looked up at Eli. His handsome face was twisted with rage and he hobbled unsteadily on his right leg, which was wooden from the thigh down.

“You thought that I was dead!” he yelled over the gunfire and wails of pain. “I have spent seasons searching for you! I dreamt that you would be here!”

He had a rifle cocked over his arm, and hanging from his neck were two amulets. Beauty made a grab for hers, but he stopped her, breaking her fingers with his fist. She yelped and tried to dart away, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her back.

Before them, the State officials were shooting blindly around the room, unable to see due to the visions they were experiencing. Some were crying with fear as dark monsters from their nightmares jumped at them and tried to tear them apart. Occasionally one of their rouge bullets would hit a Magic Blood and they would yell, their wound spurting and gushing, before they collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“You will not get away this time, Cousin!”

Beauty tried to tear herself from him, but she could not. She struggled, her limbs thrashing and her heart racing.

“I have found you! I have found you and you will not escape!”

The ground began to tremble and then it began to shake. Both the Magic Bloods and the State officials cried in surprise, distracted by the shifting of the earth beneath their feet.

“Beauty!” Asha screamed.

And suddenly the basement caved into itself with a bang.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-E
IGHT

The Dead

B
eauty struggled to the surface, pushing debris and bricks out of the way. Her eyes and mouth were covered with dust and her ears were ringing. As she wriggled through the rubble, pieces of wood and bricks slammed her body and created deep, mauve bruises. Her broken fingers throbbed and her head ached with a dull, incessant pain.

Finally, she felt the clammy air of Sago on her cheeks and she gasped in a lungful, coughing and spluttering. She rubbed the dust and chippings from her eyes and looked at the crater that she stood upon. Around the square, several other buildings had fallen and there were mounds of rumpled remains everywhere.

Beside her, a hand was sticking out from beneath a fragment of wall. Lifeless.

She felt something against her chest and looked down to see her amulet. She did not remember grabbing it before the basement caved, but she was glad to have it all the same. Her skin was still shimmering silver and the amulet seemed to warm against it. When she touched the engraved rose at the center, a shiver ran through her.

She must leave.

A shrill whinny sounded through the echoing silence, and Beauty ran to the stables behind the fallen building. Champ and the stable were still intact and she cried out in relief, throwing open the door to let him canter out.

She was desperate to leave and she calmed him quickly, the eerie, deserted silence pressing on her as she did so. With her body still bruised and aching, she climbed upon his back and clung to his dark mane. She did not need to tell him where they were headed—he seemed to already know. She looked one last time at the crater where the basement had been and then she turned Champ away.

They galloped out of Sago so quickly that even if Beauty had had her eyes open, she would have seen nothing. She wove her fingers into Champ’s mane and trusted him to carry her away, shutting her eyes to the death and destruction she had witnesed. Her cheeks were stiff with splatters of dried blood and her head pounded with pain, but she pretended not to notice. She had to return to Beast—that was all she knew.

Night came and went and still Champ galloped onward. During the next day, Beauty found some of her strength returning and she sat taller, taking an interest in where they traveled. By the glimpses she stole of the crowded streets and many inns that they passed, she guessed that they must be leaving the Border Cities. She remembered how once Owaine had been so excited to return to his hills, and she remembered how she had not understood what he found so beautiful in their green, rolling isolation. She understood now.

If I can just reach the Hillands, everything will be all right
, she told herself.
I just need to reach it.

On the third day, Champ began to slow. It was subtle and he still traveled at an impossible speed, but Beauty noticed it. She looked down at her hands embedded in his mane, and she saw that they were not shimmering as brightly as they had. The enchantment was fading.

“Go, boy!” she urged, and he tried, but he could not travel as fast as before.

On the fourth day, they were forced to stop when evening fell. Both felt drained though they pretended not to notice, and they made camp beneath a tree in a wood.

“We can reach the Hillands tomorrow,” said Beauty, her voice tinged with hope. “Do not fret, boy. We will be there tomorrow.”

But the next morning they were weary. Beauty looked at her hands and they glowed only faintly. She hoisted herself onto his back, ignoring her tender muscles, and urged him on. They were in the midst of the Forest Villages and she prayed that they could reach Imwane by nightfall.

“We are almost there, boy,” she whispered.

The day was hard. Champ galloped as fast as he was able and Beauty rode him with all the strength she had left, but they only reached the edge of the Hillands before nightfall and they were forced to stop due to sheer exhaustion.

Beauty collapsed onto the ground, too tired to even unpack her bedroll, and Champ lay on the grass, his nose tucked under him. They did not even eat; they just slept deeply under the scatter of stars until dawn. When she woke, Beauty knew that something was wrong. She could feel it like a pull across her chest. She opened her eyes and whispered, “Beast.”

Her sense of dread only increased throughout the day as they fought their way across the hills. Champ’s bay coat was soon black with sweat and his mouth foamed, while Beauty was almost delirious
with pain. Her broken fingers were now puffy and bruised and she had deep scratches on her arms. But she refused to stop.

As the sun was setting and casting jets of amber and gold across the horizon, Beauty and Champ tumbled down the hillside into Imwane. A few villagers sat outside their cottages and they watched with amazement as the great warhorse thundered over the valley and straight into the forest, a silver woman slumped on his back.

Hally, who stood on the threshold of his house, made the sign of the gods and all of the villagers copied him, holding their hands to the sky long after Beauty and Champ had disappeared.

The forest was the worst part yet. Champ stumbled through the bracken and vines, and Beauty was clawed and pulled from his back by the thick branches. Often she tumbled from his shoulders and had to wrench herself astride him once more. Both were exhausted and lost. Before, they had needed only to ride into the forest and they would be pulled toward the castle like a magnetic force, but now there was no such guidance. The light was disappearing and frustrated tears began to collect in Beauty’s eyes.