Page 4 of A Fractured Song

The water pulled from the nearby clouds joined that from the barrels in the cloud bank right above the fire. To her immense relief, it was enough. The balance tipped as the moisture gathered, and the cloud began to release rain.

With a gasp, Marieke broke off her song again. As soon as she wasn’t actively singing, she realized just how much her songcraft had taken from her. She’d channeled far more magic than her limited experience had prepared her body for, and she was barely conscious. She swayed on her feet, her father steadying her with strong hands.

Marieke’s eyes drifted closed, salty sweat stinging them as it dripped down her face. All she wanted was to sleep, but thejob wasn’t done yet. The rain was a good start, but it wasn’t a torrential downpour. She needed to enhance it if she possibly could.

An expert in agricultural songcraft might be able to increase the volume of water with only their song, but Marieke didn’t know how to do that. She needed to swell the rain with water she found elsewhere. And there wasn’t any in the immediate vicinity.

With an effort that kept her too exhausted to open her eyes, she sent her assessing song further afield, trying to find water with the desperation of a dying man in the desert.

There. A body of water just on the edge of her awareness. Likely a dam belonging to the nearest farm, for livestock to drink from. Marieke sent power surging through the ground, calling on the water. She didn’t try to make it fly impossibly through the air like she’d done with the water from the barrels. It was easier magic to simply increase natural processes—in this case, evaporation. She sent it up into the clouds, urging it to swell the rain already falling.

She enhanced the natural evaporation process far beyond what would ever happen without magic. The dam was almost drained when she caught the cries of joy from the farmers battling the fire. She permitted herself a smile. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, but she could hear the steady thrumming of what was now a heavy—albeit isolated—patch of rainfall.

As much of the water as she could manage was in the clouds now, and it would fall without her continued intervention. That was part of the benefit of utilizing natural processes as much as possible. She could afford to stop singing.

“You did it, Mari.” Her father’s voice, hushed in awe, filled the sudden quiet created when her song cut off. “You did it all by yourself.”

She tried to muster a smile for him, but she was barelyawake. She’d undertaken a task that should really have fallen to a team of singers, and taken control of much more magic than was safe for her body. She felt blackness creeping in at the edges as she let her weight fall against her father.

It wasn’t an entirely peaceful descent into unconsciousness, however. Her mind tried to fight against oblivion, insisting on solving the agitating question of the resistance to her attempts to direct the wind.

Only now it was all over did she recognize what she’d felt in the moment. As the wind resistance had suddenly died, so had the angry magic she’d felt when she first assessed the fire.

Even in her befuddled state, there was only one conclusion to draw. This blaze hadn’t been natural. It had been created—or at the very least fueled—by magic. And not the dormant magic of the land. The intentional, channeled magic of an active enchantment.

Her last thought as she finally succumbed to unconsciousness was anything but reassuring.

She wasn’t the only singer present.

Chapter

Two

Marieke woke slowly, her mind reluctant to return to consciousness. Probably because of the steady pounding in her head. Who was knocking against her skull, and why?

She let out a soft groan, and heard rapid movement next to her in response.

“Mari!” Her father’s familiar voice was laced with relief. “That’s it, nice and slow. Don’t push yourself.”

“My head hurts,” Marieke groaned, wincing as she sat up. She put a hand tentatively to her temple.

“I don’t know anything about magical ailments.” Her normally collected father sounded anxious. “What do you need? Is there something I should be doing?”

Marieke smiled in spite of her pounding head. There was something very endearing about her father’s concern.

“It’s not a magical ailment,” she said. “I’ve just overextended myself.”

“From using magic,” her father insisted.

“Well, yes.” Marieke gave a weak laugh. “But I’ll be fine, once I’ve had a chance to rest and recover my energy. As forwhat you can do…” she winced again as her temples throbbed, “a drink of cold water wouldn’t go amiss.”

“There’s a glass just here.”

Marieke downed the liquid gladly, looking around her. The room was completely unfamiliar.

“Where ishere, incidentally?” she asked.

Her father leaned back in his chair, his eyes on her face. “The farmhouse of the Mosleys.”

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