Page 19 of Witchlight
“Ahtset,”the boy replied, his eyes drifting to Merik for half a moment. Then to the open window behind him. “The Kyrestiri. The ones that the mountain spits out. It is what we call them in Tirla. Sometimes, the mountain shakes and people change. So is my mother like that? Is that what happened to me?”
Merik was careful to keep his brow smooth. He knew he was prone to frowning, to letting dark thoughts play across his face. “I don’t know if your mother is Kyrestiri, Revan, but yes. You were. And I was too.”
“And… Rora.” Revan pointed at the storm hound, who had flopped back over to her side. She stretched one of her wings behind her and nudged it against Merik’s knee. “Rora was Kyrestiri too?”
“Yes,” Merik answered, even though this wasn’t true. Aurora had never been cleaved… yet shehadbeen spit out by the mountain, just as Merik had.
“Would you like to come closer? I have stew—albeit not a very good one. But it’s warmer here by the stove, and then you can tell me everything you remember. Maybe we can find your mother.”
Revan inhaled, a furrow sinking across his forehead. Then, with a nod more for himself than for Merik, he finally stepped into the tower. “You never did tell me your name. Sir.” He added the title almost as a reflex.
Definitely the son of wealthy merchants.Tirla was certainly full of them.
“Merik.”
“Oh.” The boy’s eyebrows shot high. “Like the prince who died in Nubrevna?”
A soft laugh escaped Merik’s throat. It was a bitter sound that made hischest ache more than it had any right to. “Yes, just like the prince who died in Nubrevna. Luckily for both of us, though, I’m still alive.”
It was clear from Revan’s wincing that despite the hunger that must cramp inside his gut, he was accustomed to better fare than salted meat boiled in water.
“I’m sorry.” Merik offered a wince of his own as they sat before the hearth. He and Revan were alone now. Aurora had lumbered out of the tower once Merik had served the stew, and he’d felt her take flight in a combination of winds and wings.
He kept checking the window though. Looking for her in the gray skies. Would she be foolish enough to fly toward the raider encampments? Would she be foolish enough to go back toward the mountain and the hungry ice?
While Merik and Revan slurped the hot, salty water and gnawed at the slightly softened meats, Merik managed to pry more information from the boy. His familywerewealthy merchants, and he actually spoke all of the languages Merik had tried on him.
“Why do you know so many?” the boy asked. He was pulling another face as he tipped back more “stew.” Or maybe the face was a commentary on Merik’s person, for the next thing he said was: “You don’tlooklike you’d know so many.”
Fair. Merik set down his empty bowl. “My clothes have seen better days. I was… what was the word? Kyrestiri? I was Kyrestiri for a very long time.”
This made Revan’s face fall. His shoulders slumped too, and he finished eating in silence. Merik left him that way while he moved around the tower and prepared sleeping mats for them both. He would need to get proper food—perhaps from the river to the east, where no raiders camped.
Or,he thought, as a memory struck,at one of the Nomatsi shrines. As soon as he thought the wordNomatsi,though, he could hear Esme snarling,No’Amatsi.Their shrines were all across the Windswept Plains, built for the ancient gods they still worshipped. And at two of those shrines, Merik had found food. It had been a different season then, the tail end of autumn, but maybe he could get lucky a third time.
He would go tomorrow night when he could fly without risk of being seen by the raiders. They must have lookouts; perhaps even this fire in the hearth was a risk…
A gunshot cracked through the city.
Merik lunged for the tower window to search outside. In the distance, a shadow trailed across the sky. It was Aurora, except her movements were ungainly.
“You have to help her,” Revan cried, coming to the window next to Merik. “That’s Rora!”
“Yes, but you—”
“I can hide if anyone comes, sir.”
Merik swallowed. There was no denying the white-hot fury sparking inside him. It made his winds come easily; it made him feel righteous and strong. But he’d spent too many years letting that temper be his guide. He was not that man anymore.
A second gunshot pierced the night. The shadow that was Aurora lurched downward.
“I’ll be back,” Merik said, and just like that, the decision was made. He took flight from the window in an eruption of magic and winds.
Revan barked surprise, and Merik had half a moment for regret. He should have warned the child of his magic. Should have made a point to show him the faded Witchmark on his hand.
Too late now, though, and Merik’s regret was quickly swamped by anger. His winds had always been fueled by that temper, and now was no exception. Someone wished to harm Aurora. It was Merik’s job to stop them.
He flew higher and faster. A third gunshot ripped out. It missed Aurora, but only because Merik had already blasted her with his own winds, cocooning her as Kullen used to do with him. His magic mixed with hers. It was like a spark to gunpowder. A charge ignited; lightning crackled. She rocketed out of sight.
