“I found it. I found my way back.”
Par-Salian was startled awake by the hand covering his mouth. His eyes opened, his instincts telling him to fight. He bucked against the attacker, and she relented easily. It took him a moment to distinguish Ladonna standing there in his chamber, over his bed.
“Ladonna, you shouldn’t be here,” he whispered.
“Hush now,” she said. “Do you still have that medallion the highmage gave you?”
“No,” Par-Salian said. “It’s spent. Why?”
“Tythonnia is in terrible danger.”
Hort wrapped himself in his cloak, trying desperately to stave off the mountain cold that dug deeply into him. The renegade encampment was less than a mile away, and Hort had chosen a perch among the rocks that lay well outside the game trails. He didn’t need hunters finding him before Dumas returned. Hort prayed she would come back soon because he was getting tired of waiting.
“You’re certain,” Par-Salian said, searching through the pile of books stacked on his desk. “A trap?”
“It’s what Arianna told me. She learned it directly from Reginald Diremore. What are you looking for?”
“A spell I have in one of my-ah!” he exclaimed, pulling out a book bound in red leather. He flipped the pages. “It’s a teleportation spell,” he said.
“You don’t know how to cast one of those,” Ladonna said. She hesitated, the smirk receding from her face. “You know how to cast one of those?”
“After everything we’ve been through,” he said, “I believe I can. I’ve managed to grasp more powerful spells recently. But I need a destination.”
“Berthal’s campsite. Where we stayed. Are you sure you can do this?”
“If what you say is true, we have no choice. Not just for Tythonnia’s sake, but for the sake of the children there as well. We should inform the highmage.”
“We mustn’t,” Ladonna said, “or they’ll imprison Tythonnia and drum me out of the Black Robes for divulging this secret. It’ll drive a rift between the orders. You know what will happen.”
“Fine!” Par-Salian said. “But the campsite is likely abandoned by now.”
“But it’s a start, yes?” Ladonna said. “And it’s the only thing we know for certain.”
Sunlight streamed into the tent through the partially opened flap. It seemed too raw for daylight, as though unfiltered by the sky. It was a mountain sun, brutal and harsh. Tythonnia sat up from the bedroll and wrapped the blankets around herself more tightly. The cold did not come from within her anymore; it was the chill of their surroundings. She stood with the blankets draped around her shoulders and slipped into her boots. It wasn’t the season to go barefoot.
The camp rested along the wide forest ledge of the slope, where trees and a swath of green soil clung to the mountain’s waist. There were small fires to keep people warm, but the children scampered about like mountain goats in their new playground. The dwarf Snowbeard traveled from hearth to hearth with a cooking pot that bounced precariously close to the ground. He served warm soup to those hungry and never seemed to mind the weight.
Tythonnia saw Berthal speaking to a small crowd of sorcerers, among them Mariyah, Shasee, and Kinsley. Mariyah saw her and waved at her with a genuine smile. That distracted Berthal long enough to motion Tythonnia over.
“There she is,” he said, “our other hero. Were it not for Mariyah and Tythonnia, we wouldn’t be so blessed.”
Mariyah blushed at the compliment, which wasn’t too difficult given the cold that made her paler than normal. The others nodded to Tythonnia. Berthal continued speaking.
“The ritual will take a few days to prepare. I’ll lead it, but I need you four to learn your parts,” he said, looking at Kinsley, Mariyah, and another man Tythonnia knew only by sight. “Once open, Shasee and the others will cross over and secure our foothold.”
Cross over? Foothold? What’s happening? Tythonnia wondered. She was unsure of what secrets rested inside the book, but for the moment, she remained quiet.
“How long can you keep the door open?” Shasee asked.
“A few hours,” Berthal responded. “Anything permanent requires much more preparation and a secure location to plant the gate.”
“Gate?” Tythonnia blurted.
“I’m sorry, my love,” Berthal said as he squeezed her shoulder and pulled her to his side. “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you. The book you brought us is a gateway to a bottle realm, a stronghold.”
It was Mariyah who jumped in with the explanation. “Highmage Gadrella built it for the Black Robes, in case they ever needed a place to hide,” she said excitedly.
“It’s a place the wizards would never find,” Berthal said with a broad smile. “Gadrella hid it so well even the Black Robes won’t find it without the book and the key. There we can recruit and practice and live until we’re strong enough to resist the orders. They wouldn’t even know where to start scrying for us. You found us our sanctuary,” he said.
Following the excitement of the morning’s gathering, everyone went about the preparations. For some, that meant learning their spells, while for others, it meant honing their control over the Wyldling magic or simply helping around the camp to keep food on the plates and the children out from underfoot.
Berthal wanted to spend more time with Tythonnia, but there wasn’t time to spare. In distraction, he almost walked away when Tythonnia grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the tent.
“I don’t think we have time for this,” he said with a playful smile.
Tythonnia tried to return his grin but couldn’t. His expression changed as well.
“What is it?” he asked.
It was far from an opportune time, but she didn’t want to lie to him either.
“When I left the wizards behind,” Tythonnia began, “I vowed that I’d stop living a lie. No matter how comfortable.”
Berthal took her hand and urged her to sit next to him on the bedroll. His eyes never left hers; his concern never wavered. He was committed to her; she knew that. That’s what made her decision so difficult.
“Am I a part of that lie?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re a wonderful man, and-I–I care for you, but not the way you want me to. I can’t-I don’t love you.”
Berthal was quiet, a mixture of love and sorrow in his eyes.
“Gods, Berthal, you’re a good man. And kind. And generous. You’re the best thing I’ll take away from all this.”
“But it’s not enough,” he said softly.
“No, it isn’t,” she said.
“Then I’m happy for you,” he replied and swept her into his embrace.
Tythonnia hugged him back fiercely and simply held him until the tears had been washed from both their eyes.
They arrived in a small flash of light that pushed wind and grass away from them. Everything returned to normal a moment later, leaving Ladonna and Par-Salian standing in a clearing of flattened grass where the camp had once stood. Strung over their shoulders were travel packs; they wore their broken-in trousers, tunics, and cloaks from their last expedition. Ladonna, however, had clothed herself in more bejeweled rings, a thin tiara, and stone-studded choker.
Immediately, the two wizards examined their surroundings for any sign of a direction that the camp might have taken. After a half hour’s search, however, Par-Salian kicked a stone and threw his hands in the air.
