Leif’s head throbbed. He was wet and cold from the sea air and their swim to the jetty. He’d tried twisting and jerking his arms to loosen the knots but they remained tight. Bloody sailors. He wasn’t making any progress with the bag on his head either. He used his hips to shift his body around the bed of the wagon. It was empty except for him. Although it was apparent there was a short rope tied from his hands to some other point within the wagon. Probably wise on their part.

  After straining his fingers and shoulders against the ropes until he felt he’d lost circulation in his arms, he stopped.

  He knew what his next, and possibly only other option, had to be. He feared it though. It wasn’t his magic that scared him, more so that his magic had left him. That he’d never find it again.

  Cautiously, he turned inward. He still felt weary from using his magic but most of the sluggishness he’d originally felt had cleared. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he’d done in the duel with Vigo. He searched within himself, seeking the font of power he had felt before.

  It was gone.

  Leif could still not sense or feel anything like what he’d felt in the duel. He exhaled in frustration. How could his magic have left him? He should have asked Vigo if there was something wrong. Vigo could have reassured him. Now he was tied up in the back of a wagon, blind and alone.

  He slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm himself. His magic couldn’t be gone. It wasn’t possible. It was part of him. It was in recovery and dormant. He just had to wait it out; to continue searching for it until he found it again.

  He focused inwards again. If it didn’t work, he’d simply try again later. He forced himself to stay calm. Patience was difficult considering his limbs were bound and he was tied to a wagon that he assumed was headed right back to the front door at the palace of Maedelund.

  He didn’t know what he was doing but he stopped letting that bother him. He forced himself to believe that he’d eventually find his magic.

  He started at his feet and slowly worked his way up. He tried to consciously recognize, to feel, every sensation on every inch of flesh. He focused intently on his cold, wet feet, before continuing upwards. When he got to his head he felt better and more relaxed. He was calm and acutely aware of his body. Leif then focused on the wellspring of magic he’d felt before. He didn’t know where it was but he pictured it in his mind. Then, he moved towards it. He reached out and grasped it.

  A spark flashed through him; and there it was.

  The wagon suddenly lurched as the front right wheel rolled over a pothole. Leif lost concentration and was ripped from his reverie. His connection to his magic broke as his pounding head again struck the wagon floor. He gritted his teeth as the rear wheel followed into the pothole, jolting the wagon, and him, once again.

  He took a deep breath and resumed his efforts. He found his magic faster this time. The feeling, the well of power within him came alive. There was a fire inside of him. Fire that was enormous and beautiful and terrible. It was fire to destroy cities and forge empires. It was a sixth sense. He could feel the world around him. Waves and particles and energy swayed and swirled. The vibrations were musical and intoxicating. He could touch them. He could move them. All around him was light, and light was the world and the world was his to command. There was nothing he could not do. All of creation was his to conquer or destroy.

  Joy surged through Leif. He felt pride and a fearlessness and confidence he had never before experienced. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He felt the air from his lungs seep out through the canvas and merge with the air flowing through the wagon.

  He lay there, bound and blinded, but enjoying the moment. What he felt was an awakening, a uniting, with a part of him that had been asleep and unknown. He enjoyed the feeling of being tethered to it.

  Leif could tell his magic was still recovering. The well had not refilled. The muscle was still sore. But a sore muscle is still functional. A sore muscle is still useful.

  Leif abruptly realized that he still knew very little about magic. Now that he had re-accessed his own he didn’t know what to do with it. The only thing he could think of was the fire Vigo had shown him before.

  The wagon continued to bounce along. Without knowing where they were, there didn’t seem to be any reason to wait. All he knew was they were getting farther from Vigo and lowering his chances of being found. Perhaps he’d have to find himself.

  He focused on the rope that tethered him to the wagon. He could sense the particles that made up each strand, intertwined and moving. He simply had to speed them up.

  Leif reached out with his magic. He collected the particles of the rope, making them his own. Gently, he willed them to accelerate.

  They responded. The reaction was thrilling. He was doing magic. He continued pushing, getting the particles to move faster. He didn’t know how long it was supposed to take to light something on fire. He didn’t think the wood from the fire before had taken this long to ignite. Then again, that fire had been burning only moments before.

  He forced the particles faster. He poured as much of his will into them as he could. The rope was buzzing with energy. He pushed again. Suddenly the rope erupted.

  Too much. He’d done far more than was needed. He’d expected a small burn that would sever the rope then fizzle out. This was different. He could sense the fire but it had engulfed the entire length of rope. He released the connection he had with his magic and started yanking on the burning rope. He still couldn’t see. He felt heat from the burning rope against his hands. Thankfully, his sleeves and the rope that bound his wrists were still damp.

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  He continued twisting and jerking his hands away from the tethered rope, hoping some point in the strand would weaken enough to burn through and tear.

  “Hell Rynd, we’re on fire!” Leif heard Eudo’s voice much earlier than he’d hoped. Knowing his chance of escape was dwindling, he jerked on the rope in a frenzy.

  The snap of the rope surprised him. He was free. His tether was broken and his shoulder rolled into the opposite side of the wagon. He used his face to push himself up to his knees. He’d have to somehow roll himself off the wagon then somehow run with a bag on his head. The more he thought about it the more ridiculous it sounded but he had to try.

  “It’s the boy! He’s a mage!” Something very hard slammed into Leif’s temple. “Can’t burn us up if he’s unconscious.”

  Leif fought to stay awake. Blows rained down on his back and head. His ears rang like the bells on the Eve of the Festival of Swallows. Eudo and his partner didn’t seem to realize the fire had continued burning without any of Leif’s help. Leif certainly wasn’t doing any magic now nor was he moving. He was just trying to keep his brain active.

  “Get him out!”

  The heat from the opposite side of the wagon pressed against him in earnest. It amused him that as cold and wet as he was, it actually felt quite pleasant. He wondered if he was about to die in the first fire he made all by himself. It wasn’t to be, as he was yanked from the wagon. Mercifully, his shoulder hit the dirt first, rather than his aching head. The two men grasped under his arms and started him running.

  “We’re almost there anyhow. Come on.”

  “What if he burns us too?”

  “If you start feeling warm just hit him.”

  An elbow to his ribs caught him off guard. He stumbled and went down, this time on his face. The bag on Leif’s head made running nearly impossible. He wouldn’t wish blindness on anyone. Other than Eudo. And Rynd.

  They yanked him up and continued on quickly. Leif could hear the man Rynd saying, “Bloody hell” over and over.

  Their run slowed to a fast walk as both Eudo and Rynd were panting. Leif didn’t know how long they had been moving, he was focused on keeping his steps high and toes up so as not to fall on his face again. They trekked for what could have been thirty minutes but he supposed ten minutes or an hour were just as likely with how disoriented he was. He felt the ground become softer under his feet. They’d veered off the road onto the grassy beach. Leif expected it would turn rocky very soon. They had guided him off the hard packed road.

  “There’s the boat.”

  They continued guiding him though now with more urgency. Leif needed to get the canvas sack off his head. Any escape attempt he made would be utterly useless if he couldn’t see and couldn’t use his hands. He supposed he could always light something on fire again but that took more concentration than he had at the moment.

  “Get in.”

  His next steps splashed down into shallow water. The cold from the Kilden shot through his already wet boots and ran up through his body. Leif shivered. The adrenaline that had carried him through his earlier swim was gone and he was acutely aware of how soaked and cold he was. He felt the two men press him up against the side of what he assumed was a small skiff. They pressed him forward. Leif didn’t know what else to do other than to attempt to delay his ongoing kidnapping so he stumbled and bounced off the skiff and his body slapped into the shallow water. He made a slow attempt to rise but a boot slammed into his back between his shoulders. It pressed him face down into the water against the rocky sand beneath. His chest took the brunt of the jagged rocks. His lungs burned with fury at him for not taking a larger breath before being stuck underwater.

  The heel of the boot on his back dug into his spine until finally it was withdrawn. He started to rise when a hand grasped the top of the sack on his head and yanked his head up. Eudo spoke into his ear, “Listen boy, they don’t need you alive they just need you. Keep it up and this process gets a whole lot easier for everyone.”

  His head was slammed back down into the water, his face ground against the rocks below. Leif thanked all that was good for the thick canvas between his face and the sand. Eudo put his full weight into pressing Leif’s head into the ground until finally he was dragged up and roughly flipped into the skiff. He tumbled over himself and thought that perhaps his feigned stumble had not been convincing enough.

  Oars clattered and Leif felt the skiff moving.

  “Go! Go!”

  The sound of a running horse reached Leif’s ears. “Bloody hell,” Rynd continued his mantra.

  Leif felt arms lift him to his knees. His head was pulled back and something pressed against his throat. “Stop! I will kill him, Vi-.”

  The grip that had been on his head and the pressure against his throat relaxed, then drifted away. Eudo collapsed onto the deck behind him.

  Leif heard a splash, then for a moment only the sound of waves cresting, before a force slammed into the deck beside him. Another voice that Leif didn’t recognize spoke, “Sir, I swear I want nothing to do with any of this. I was just hired last night to carry them to the Lady Seraph.”

  Vigo’s voice cut through the air like an ax through timber, “Row.” The edge in his command felt like a physical strike. The oars clacked and the skiff started moving.

  Leif felt a cold blade slide against his wrists and sever the rope that bound his hands. He felt the loop around his neck loosen and the canvas bag was removed. The brightness of the world surprised him and he squinted and blinked his eyes until they adjusted to the light.

  “You look like hell.” Vigo’s voice was calm and slightly amused. For what felt like the hundredth time since meeting the wizard, Leif exhaled with relief.

  “Well.” Leif looked up at Vigo through his squinted eyes. Partly because of the brightness and partly because of the swelling that had impacted most of his face.

  “No more than usual, I’m just reminding you.”

  Leif scanned the boat around him. Eudo’s body was in a pile on the deck. There was a hole that tunneled from his right eye socket and bore through to the back of his head. A man Leif didn’t recognize was rowing the small skiff the short distance back to shore. Drifting facedown in the water behind the skiff was a third man, presumably Rynd.

  After returning to the beach, Vigo and Leif worked their way back to the harbor of Sersk. They walked with Vigo leading his horse. They passed the wagon that was now mostly smoldering and blackened. “How did the fire start?” asked Vigo.

  “It took some time to work it out again but eventually I got there.”

  Vigo scoffed and smiled but said nothing.

  “When do I learn how to shoot that light from my hands?”

  “It’s a high energy beam. Some call it plasma, and you already know how to do it; accelerate the particles. Most mages are terrible at it - the proper intensity is beyond them.”

  They returned to the port where a skiff was waiting to take them back to the Illusion.

  When they boarded the boat, they found Anker on his knees before them. “I swear it, Vigo. I swear I didn’t know. I had nothing to do with it.” Fear and desperation was plain on his face . “My loyalty is to Erling. He has given me everything. I would not want to compromise that and I would certainly not risk your ire. Eudo acted without my knowledge. If he is not dead, I’ll do it myself. He is certainly no longer a member of this crew.”

  “Get up, Anker, let’s go.” Leif didn’t know if this meant Vigo was going to kill him at some point or not but he himself was relieved to be back on the Illusion.

  Under the direction of Anker, the crew brought their boat to life. At last, under the cloudy Foerstian sky, the Illusion sailed north for Danaria.