No Fairytale: A Tale of Emaneska (The Emaneska Series Book 5) by Ben Galley

Author:Ben Galley [Galley, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: BenGalley.com
Published: 2019-04-18T04:00:00+00:00

Part Three

THE COLD ALWAYS LENGTHENS A JOURNEY. My boots, an inch too big for my feet, did nothing to keep them warm. By the time a weak sun made its debut through the clouds directly overhead, I felt I walked on hooves. My teeth chattered as if they were tired of living, and sought to grind themselves to dust in my mouth. All I could feel were my hands. No matter how many times I plunged into a snowdrift, or how hard the cold wind gusted, they somehow held their warmth.

I walked in the centre of the motley group, as silent as they were. They walked with a determination that I imagined came from already putting half the world beneath their feet. Nothing seemed to bother them; not the miles, the cold, nor the directionless way they meandered through the pines.

Farden led them, with the big Siren close at his shoulder. Durnus next, shuffling in front of me. Inwick brought up the rear. Her hand never left the sword at her side. I wondered if she didn’t trust me or if it was for my own protection, should more milky-eyed men burst from the woods.

When I couldn’t stand my shivering any more, I turned to her. ‘Aren’t you freezing?’

Inwick shook her head, though her lips were two grey pencil lines on her white face.

‘Magick, girl. It has many uses.’

‘It isn’t very useful to me.’

‘You’re untrained, that’s why,’ she said.

I grumbled over that for a moment. ‘Teach me, then. I think my feet are about to fall off.’

Inwick looked past me, and I followed her gaze to catch Farden’s eyes. His nod was almost imperceptible.

‘I could,’ she said, a sigh in her voice.

‘Please?’

‘Fine.’

Inwick stepped to my side, removing her hand from her blade. She wore no gloves, no gauntlets, but when she held out an empty palm, I could feel heat radiating from it.

Her words were flat and rehearsed, as if I was the most recent in a long line of similar conversations. ‘Magick is a river, girl. An invisible river that flows through rock, flesh, bone and sky. It is a river without spring nor estuary, beginning nor end. It is ever-flowing and never-changing. It may ebb and wane, but it is always there, and has been since the gods first raised us from the mud.’

‘You make no sense.’

‘I only make no sense because you don’t understand.’

‘I’m just a peasant girl, remember?’ I said it loud enough so that Farden could hear me. I wasn’t sure if the reply I heard was a chuckle or a grunt.

‘What I mean is that the magick is not within you. It’s not yours, like your soul or your blood, but borrowed. It’s far greater than you, and always will be.’

‘And this is why you never taught at the School of the Written, Inwick,’ Durnus muttered over his shoulder.

It was the first time I had caught a hint of mirth on the woman’s face. Though to call it a smile would have made even the faintest smirk a maniacal grin.

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