Reo stopped beside her.
“The boat is ready to go,” he said. “There are still half a dozen left in case others find their way here. In case Timo finds his way here.”
“Good.” And it was, really. If they hadn’t been here—if
she
hadn’t been here—none of these people would have been able to get to the boats. But Timo wouldn’t know about these boats, wouldn’t know that there was a way off the island here. Sadly, she turned towards the gate but movement caught her eye.
“Wait.” She placed a hand on Reo’s arm. “I think someone’s out there.” She peered out beyond the gate towards a small laneway. There, she saw it again. “Come on,” she said to Reo. She headed toward the lane, and he silently followed her.
“Hello?” Kara called softly. “We’re leaving the island now. Do you want to come?”
She heard a scuffle from behind a low fence. Before she could take two steps in that direction Reo had vaulted over the fence. A shrill scream turned into a yelp of outrage.
“Lemme go,” a voice yelled.
“No,” Reo answered.
When he straightened, Kara could see him over the top of the fence. He turned to face her, and she glimpsed a small form writhing in his arms. The girl wasn’t more than five or six—the same age as her own children—and she did not like being held captive.
Kara darted around the corner and stopped in front of Reo and his squirming burden. The child stopped struggling when she met Kara’s gaze.
“Shhh. We aren’t going to hurt you,” Kara said. “But we can’t let you run away.”
“I won’t run away,” the girl said.
She went limp, as if to prove her point. Kara met Reo’s eyes and smiled. Their own children often tried this just before trying to break free.
“I’ll keep hold of you, just the same,” Reo said softly.
He carefully set the girl’s feet on the ground, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders. She lunged, trying to break free, but he held her tight against his legs. When she stepped down on Reo’s booted foot, Kara turned her head away to keep from laughing out loud.
“We won’t hurt you, truly,” Kara said. She knelt down in front of the child. “We have two children of our own, just about your age.”
That caught the child’s attention and her head swiveled from Kara, up to Reo, and back to Kara.
“You’re married?”
“We are,” Kara replied. “Our son Nando is six and Lisha is four. I think you’re a bigger girl than Lisha.”
“I’m five,” was the reply.
“What’s your name?”
The girl eyed her suspiciously for a moment. She crossed her small arms and settled them on her chest before she shook her head and frowned.
“Is your family close by?” Kara asked.
The girl stared at her feet, her lips clamped shut.
Kara stood up, wiping her hands on her trousers. “Hello?” she called out. “Is someone missing a five-year-old girl? Hello?”
When there was no answer, she shook her head. “We can’t leave you here. Reo, take her to the boat.”
“No,” the girl cried. “Leave me alone!”
“We can’t,” Kara said. “Did you hear the bells?” The girl nodded, and Kara continued, “Do you know what they meant?”
Hesitantly, the small head shook back and forth.
“They were telling everyone to get off the island,” Kara said. She gestured to the empty streets around them. “Something bad has happened, and it’s not safe here anymore.”
The island shuddered, and the ground buckled beneath their feet.
“We need to go,” Reo said.
“We can’t leave,” the girl said softly. “Not without mama.” She stared at Kara, her eyes wide with worry.
“Where is she? Is she hiding?” Kara asked.
“She’s sick. She didn’t get out of bed today.”
“Show us,” Kara said.
The girl nodded solemnly. “This way.” She trotted down the alley and slipped through a gap in a wooden fence.
“I hope she’s not just running away from us,” Reo said.
He reached the fence and instead of trying to squeeze through the gap he grabbed a loose board and pulled. The fence swayed for a moment before the board came loose with a squeal. Reo dropped it to the ground, and Kara went through the gap. The girl had paused a few feet ahead. When she saw Kara, she turned and ran left around a small shack. Kara reached the front of the building in time to see the girl enter another alley a few doors down.
Kara sprinted, trying to keep up. Was the girl really trying to show them or was she simply escaping? Once in the alley, Kara stopped. Reo caught up to her, and she slammed her hand on the side of a building.
“Gyda! She’s gone.” Kara spun, looking in all directions, but there was no sign of the girl.
“Can’t blame her for not trusting us,” Reo said. “I’ll look left, you look right. Surely one little girl can’t outsmart the two of us?”
“She already did,” Kara muttered. But she paced along the left side of the alley anyway, hoping for a sign that the child had gone through the fence or into one of the shacks that lined the alley.
“I think her mother really is sick,” Reo said.
“I do too.” The child’s statement had had the ring of truth. Why else would a girl so young be out alone in the streets? Although she knew her way around well enough that it could be a habit.
“Shhh,” Reo said.
He’d paused beside a hut. The wood was greyed and splintered, and a small window was set up high in the wall, the shutters hanging loose.
Kara joined him, her head cocked. A low moan came from within the building.
“Someone’s inside,” she whispered. “We need to try to get them to leave. Let’s hope it’s the girl’s mother.” She didn’t want to think about others left behind, those too old or sick—or stubborn—to react to the bells.
Quietly they made their way to the front of the house. There was another low moan and then a whimper of pain. The front door opened, and the little girl crept out, her hands over her ears. She huddled down beside the door, facing the side of the building.
Kara gently reached out and pulled the girl to her.
“Make her better,” the girl cried. “Make mama stop crying.” Tears tracked the child’s face, and she buried her head in Kara’s shoulder.
“We’ll do our best,” Kara said. She hoped they could help, but without a Mage, she wasn’t sure what they could do.
Reo opened the door and led the way inside.
It took a few seconds for Kara’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. Another low moan told her where the woman lay. A rickety cot was pushed up against the wall, and a figure huddled there, a thin blanket covering her.
Kara set the girl down onto the ground and knelt beside the cot.
“Panna? That you?” The woman rolled over.
When she saw Kara, she recoiled, scrabbling backwards a little. The blanket fell to the floor.
“Reo, she’s not sick, she’s having a baby. We won’t hurt you,” Kara said to the woman. “But you can’t stay here.”
“I heard them bells,” the woman said. “But I can’t walk to the ferry.”
“We’ll help,” Kara said. “And we’re not going as far as the ferry. My husband will carry you.”
“Your husband?” The woman stopped talking and moaned, her hands clutching the edge of the cot.
“They have two children my age,” the girl, Panna, said softly. “Least that’s what they told me.”
Kara nodded. “We do. And I know from experience that a second baby comes faster than the first. Come on, we don’t have much time.”
“All right,” the woman said. “It can’t be worse than staying here by myself.” She took a deep breath and swung her legs over the side of the cot. “At least Panna’ll be safe.”
“Reo,” Kara said.
She moved out of his way, pulling little Panna with her.
Reo bent down and reached around the woman, pulling her up and into his arms.
“Let’s go,” Reo said. “What’s the fastest way to the boats?”
Panna led the way, Kara close behind her. It took them longer since they had to travel through the streets instead of by way of Panna’s shortcuts, but they made it to the square. Elman stood outside the gate, a worried look on his face.
“The island’s starting to sink,” Elman said. “It’s slow, but we need to get out from under it as soon as we can.”
They all filed through the gate, Kara holding Panna’s hand as they headed down the stairs. The bottom step was slippery from the water that now washed over it.
A few steps along the dock a boat sat, half-filled with Guildsmen.
“Derry,” one older woman called. “We thought you’d left already. Give her here, lads.”
Reo handed Panna’s mother off to a couple of men in the boat. They set her down and soon three women huddled around her. Reo grabbed Panna and swung her into waiting hands.
Kara stepped in, followed by Reo, and Elman pulled out his sword and slashed the thick rope that tethered them to the dock. He pushed the boat out before he jumped over the gunwale.
“Man the oars,” Elman called. He made his way to the centre of the boat and sat down. Another three men settled beside him, each pair wielding a long wooden oar. The boat jerked, and Kara fell against Reo, who steadied himself against the side of the boat.
Kara stared at the dock they’d just left. Water covered it, lapping against the second stair from the bottom. The island was sinking. Was Timo safe? Was he even alive?
“He’s smart and he has very strong magic,” Reo said. “He’ll make it out.”
“I hope so,” Kara said. She rested her head on Reo’s shoulder and sighed, letting the rhythmic pull of the rowers lull her.
A few moments later they were out from under the island, sunlight glinting off the gentle swells of the bay. Boats of every description were scattered ahead of them, carrying refugees from the sinking island, refugees from the politics of Mage Guild.
Kara turned to watch the island. From this vantage point she couldn’t tell that it was sinking but
she
could see a difference. The tall spires of the buildings in the centre still rose majestically into the sky, but they no longer glowed with layers upon layers of mage mist. Even as she watched, the mist seemed to evaporate, thinning first near the top and then closer to the ground. Slowly, one spire sank, forever altering the skyline of the island.
A man behind her muttered a prayer to Gyda. A scream split the air—Panna’s mother, bearing another child of Mage Guild.
This would be the first child born outside of Mage Guild. A good omen, Kara decided, a new life with a chance to live free of the guilds. She hoped the child was able to live the way it was born.
TIMO LEANED AGAINST
the low garden wall and closed his eyes against the sun. It was a beautiful day. A day he was going to fill with destruction—and death.
He hadn’t found any pure magic, not close enough to be used by him or the council Mages. He could only hope that those who usually manned the work rooms had heeded the bells and left the island. There would be others who had stayed—the ill, the elderly, and some just too obstinate to believe the message the bells were sending. Most of the council would stay—they were too busy securing their political lives to worry about their physical ones. And they were so accustomed to using magic that some of them might not remember that right now, they had none. By the time they realized their mistake Timo would have sent them below the waters of the bay.
His earlier encounter with pure power had left him even more sensitive to the swathes of magic that infused Mage Guild Island. He’d spent the last ten minutes pushing some of that magic away from the centre of the island and out towards the less magically dense edges. Now, even with his eyes closed, he could sense the layers and layers of spells that enveloped the island from the tops of the tallest spires to the underside docks where boats bobbed on the waters of the bay.
The oldest spells—the ones that had started the process of creating and raising the land mass—felt purer,
more generous
, than the more recent spells. Mage Guild Island had been built with good intentions but over the years Mages had poisoned it with their viciousness and cruelty. Now it was up to Timo to tear the heart out of all that malevolence. Starting with the most powerful Mages—the council.
He hardly even had to call the magic, it came to him so willingly. A spell rushed into him, at first overwhelming him, before he unmade it and let the power merge with his own. A rumble brought him out of his trance, and he looked up to see the library tower slowly sink out of the sky. After that he was more careful about the spells he called to him—he planned to take the island apart in stages in the hope that more people would escape before the final foundations for the island were destroyed. That’s why he’d sent magic to reinforce the edges. He didn’t want to undermine that by being careless now.
A late thought made him erect a barrier around the garden—and he had to wonder if he had secretly wanted to be found before he could complete his terrible task.
He cautiously teased magic out of the spells that surrounded him, and soon he had amassed enough power to do what he planned. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the centre of the island where the most powerful Mages lived and worked. The council room, Rorik’s home, the library, and Faron’s cells—they were all located within the area he pictured. He made sure his mother’s home, the garden he sat in, was not included and then he channelled the magic to surround that section. He forced it down, into the earth, until power encircled that part of the island from sky to sea.