Illusions Read online

  Tamani held his breath, willing it to happen, almost doubting his own eyes when two trolls came lumbering into sight, reeking of blood, one dragging a full-grown buck. If they kept going straight, they would pass right under the tree where he and Shar were perched.

  Quickly and silently, Tamani and Shar descended. The trolls didn’t seem to be in any hurry, so it was easy to keep them in view. Tamani was tempted to ambush them, to finish them off, but tonight’s mission was far more important than simply eliminating a few trolls. It was time to find out where they were hiding. All of them.

  He and Shar tracked them at an almost leisurely pace, traveling alongside the path in short sprints. The trolls paused, and Tamani crouched low, knowing Shar was doing the same behind him. He knew they couldn’t smell him—he carried neither blood nor brimstone to tickle their noses. But some trolls could sense danger, or so Shar claimed from time to time.

  The troll with the deer carcass lifted it off the ground, as though to examine the quality of the meal. Then, both trolls vanished.

  Tamani suppressed a gasp. They had disappeared right in front of his eyes! Forcing himself to remain hidden, Tamani held his breath, listening. There was a distant shuffling, a creak, the slam of wood against wood. Then silence. A minute passed. Two. Three. There were no more sounds. Tamani rose to his feet, every stem in his body ready to run, to fight.

  “Did you see that?” Shar whispered.

  “Aye,” Tamani said, half expecting the trolls to jump out from behind a tree. But the forest remained quiet and empty. He stared at the place where the trolls had just been standing. The messy one had left several drops of blood from his kill-trophy splattered on the fallen leaves. Tamani followed the blood droplets to where the trolls had paused, at the edge of a smallish clearing. The crimson trail ended where they had disappeared.

  Crouching to get a closer look, Tamani studied the blood. He stood over it and walked forward, fixing his eyes on the tree in front of him. When he had reached about half the distance to the tree, he turned.

  The blood drop was not behind him. It was off to his left.

  But he’d walked a direct route.

  “What are you doing?” Shar asked.

  “Just a second,” Tamani said, confused. He went back to the blood drop and tried it again. He focused on another tree and walked halfway to it. When he turned, the drop was behind him and to his right.

  Tamani knelt down, studying the trees that appeared to be in front of him, but apparently weren’t. “Shar,” Tamani said, making sure he was standing over the blood drop, his back to the trail he had followed. “Come stand in front of me.”

  As he stepped forward, Shar’s feet seemed to reset themselves on a diagonal path. He took two more steps, then stopped and turned, eyes wide.

  “Understand now?” Tamani asked, the confusion on his mentor’s face making him smile a little in spite of their predicament.

  As Shar stood staring at the spot where he had just been standing, Tamani braced his feet and reached out with his hands. He didn’t feel anything, but the farther out he reached, the farther apart his hands spread. When he tried to bring his hands together, he found himself bringing them back toward his chest. “Shar!” Tamani whispered breathlessly. “Come do what I’m doing.”

  It took Shar a few moments, but soon he too stood with his hands held in front of himself, tracing the intangible contours of the barrier that seemed to bend the space around them. It was as though someone had cut a very small circle in the universe. A dome they could not perceive, let alone enter.

  But it could be entered, somehow, Tamani was certain. That must be where the trolls had gone.

  “If I hadn’t seen the trolls vanish, I wouldn’t know anything was amiss,” Tamani said, dropping his hands to his sides.

  “But we can’t see it, and can only feel it indirectly,” Shar said, his arms folded across his chest as he stared into the darkness. “How do we breach a wall we cannot touch?”

  “The trolls went right through it,” Tamani replied. “So it’s not really a wall.”

  Shar silently stepped away from Tamani and picked up a small rock. He stood a few feet away and gave it an underhand toss. It arced toward the barrier and then, without the slightest interruption, vanished.

  Encouraged, Tamani bent down to grab a small stick. He walked forward, just to the point where he found himself turning, and reached out with the stick. There was no physical sensation, nothing stopped him from moving freely—but when he thought he was thrusting it forward, he found the stick pointing sideways. He started to pull back, confused, when a new idea struck him.

  Maybe it’s attuned to plants.

  He tossed the stick at the barrier instead, expecting it to bounce back. The stick vanished, just like the rock.

  Guess not.

  “That’s some warding,” Tamani breathed.

  “Since when do trolls work this kind of magic?” Shar asked.

  “Since never,” Tamani responded darkly. “So it ought to be easily overcome.”

  “Oh, aye, clearly,” Shar said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

  Tamani studied the mysterious nothingness. “I can throw things through it, but I can’t poke through it with a stick. Think you could throw me through it?”

  Shar looked at him for a long time, then arched one eyebrow and nodded. “I can certainly try.” He knelt with his fingers laced together and Tamani placed one foot into his open palms.

  “A haon, a dó, a trí!” Shar heaved, and Tamani made a flying leap, directly toward the barrier.

  He was airborne, and then he had the excruciatingly distinct impression that something was turning him inside out. But the pain passed quickly, and his back hit the ground, forcing the air from his chest. There were too many stars in the sky, he thought, trying to focus. Shar was looking down at him, vaguely amused.

  “What happened?” Tamani asked.

  “You . . . bounced.”

  Tamani sat up and stared at the space before him. “It must be very specifically attuned to fae. That shouldn’t even be possible.” He glared at the ground for a moment. “Maybe we can dig under it?”

  “Maybe,” Shar said, but he didn’t sound confident.

  “What can we do, then?”

  Shar didn’t respond immediately. He was studying the small clearing with a look of consternation, tilting his head this way and that, as if in search of an angle that would allow him to see the secret. Then he stopped and straightened.

  “I wonder . . .” Shar reached his hands forward, dragging his toe along the invisible barrier, marking its perimeter. From his pack, he produced a small drawstring pouch. “Stand back.”

  Automatically, Tamani took a few steps backward, wondering what Shar was up to.

  After loosening the strings that held it closed, Shar pinched the bottom corner of the little pouch between his thumb and forefinger. Then he crouched on the ground, carefully scattering its pale, granular contents around himself, completing the circle by dropping an arc from overhead that disappeared as it passed the invisible wall.

  Tamani jumped back in alarm as the small clearing where they stood swelled to triple its size in the blink of an eye. His breath caught in his throat as he surveyed the expanse that materialized before them from the vaguest hint of a shadow. In the center of the clearing was a dilapidated cabin, its windows tightly boarded. It practically glowed in the full moonlight.

  Realizing at once how vulnerable they were—how vulnerable they had been the whole time—Tamani dropped to his stomach and scrambled for cover behind a scrub oak. When nothing moved in the moonlit clearing, Tamani crept out slowly, though part of him suspected it didn’t matter. If anyone had been watching them for the last quarter of an hour, the time for hiding was long past. Still, his training didn’t allow him to do anything but proceed as carefully as possible.

  Shar hadn’t moved. He was standing in the middle of his improvised circle, staring at the now-empty pouch that rested in his upt
urned palm. The look on his face was a mixture of awestruck horror and giddy delight. Whatever he had done, he hadn’t expected it to work.

  “What was that?” Tamani said appreciatively.

  “Salt,” Shar replied, his voice hollow. He didn’t take his eyes off the pouch in his hand. Tamani laughed, but Shar did not.

  “Wait, you’re serious?”

  “Look there.”

  Tamani looked at the ground where Shar was pointing. The white line of salt Shar had made around himself overlapped a thick arc of dark blue powder that appeared to encircle the entire clearing.

  “That’s Mixer’s work,” Shar said, frowning.

  “It looks that way, but this is Winter-class enchantment. They’ve hidden half an acre just by drawing a circle around it!”

  “Benders don’t use powders,” Shar replied. Tamani suppressed a grimace; referring to Winter faeries as Benders was vulgar even by sentry standards. “The powder makes it a Mixing for sure.”

  “Or maybe we’re dealing with a new kind of troll. Laurel hit those trolls with caesafum and they didn’t even blink. Tracking serums don’t work, either. And it seems like Barnes was immune to everything but lead. Specifically, lead shot into his brain.”

  Shar ruminated on that. “Maybe. But there have been some very, very strong Mixers in our history.”

  “Not outside Avalon. Except the one exile, and she burned, what, forty, fifty years ago?”

  “Indeed. I saw it happen with my own eyes. But perhaps an apprentice?” Shar hesitated. “There is the young faerie.”

  “I don’t think it’s possible. Even on the off-chance that the Wildflower is a Fall, she’s too young. An Academy-trained Mixer would be a hundred before they could do something like this, never mind a wild one.”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “So I see,” Tamani said, gesturing at the powder. “Both this blue powder and whatever you did,” he added. “Why salt?”

  “Testing a theory,” Shar said. “So far, I’m encouraged by the results.”

  Sensing that Shar was not going to say more on the subject, Tamani knelt and examined the blue powder. “Can I have that pouch?”

  Wordlessly, Shar dropped the small burlap sack into Tamani’s outstretched hand. Tamani scooped some of the powder onto the blade of his knife and poured it into the pouch. Then, as an afterthought, he used his knife to draw a line in the dirt, breaking the blue circle.

  “What are you doing?” asked Shar.

  “I’m guessing a broken circle won’t work,” Tamani said. “If the trolls inside didn’t see us, they may not know the circle is broken—but they might find your salt. If we scatter the salt, and cover this break, maybe they won’t notice their lair is exposed.”

  “I want this place watched day and night from now on.”

  “I’ll need to call reinforcements,” Tamani said, the weight of his weariness bearing down on him as the excitement of discovery waned. He ducked behind a thick tree to turn on his iPhone, wishing the screen didn’t light up quite so brightly. Hoping Aaron remembered how to use the GPS, Tamani sent his location to the other sentry’s phone.

  By the time Tamani returned, Shar had eradicated his salt circle and scattered leaves over the break Tamani had made with his knife. There was still no light or sound coming from the cabin, which seemed odd; it wasn’t like trolls to sleep at night.

  “Maybe we should just storm the place and get it over with,” said Tamani.

  “You’re in no condition for a fight,” said Shar. “Besides, I’d like to keep them under observation for a bit, get a feel for their numbers. For all we know, there are thirty trolls in there, just waiting for us to knock.”

  It wasn’t much longer before Tamani heard the telltale whisper of leaves all around him, heralding the arrival of at least ten sentries.

  “Can you take it from here?” he asked Shar.

  “If you like. Where are you off to?”

  Tamani held up Shar’s burlap pouch, then tucked it into his pack. “I have to get this back to Laurel. She may be able to figure out what it is.”

  “I hope so,” Shar said, staring at the moonlit cabin.

  With that, Tamani turned and ran, his bare feet whispering through the blanket of autumn leaves. He felt like he could have made the run with his eyes closed—as though all paths led to Laurel.

  Tamani shook his head, realizing it was starting to swim—blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision. He blinked hard and forced himself to run faster, trying to push away the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe Shar was right—maybe he was spreading himself too thin. After this, he told himself. After I deliver this, I can sleep.

  He braced himself against Laurel’s back door and knocked, feeling his eyes close even as she came into sight. She opened the door in wordless surprise and he only managed one step into the kitchen before the ground rushed up to meet him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  LAUREL HAD SET HER ALARM FOR HALF AN HOUR before sunrise so she could go downstairs and check on Tamani, but she was already awake when it sounded. Her whole night had felt more like a restless dream than actual sleep. Once she’d convinced herself he was okay, Laurel draped a blanket over Tamani and went to bed. She considered trying to move him—the kitchen floor didn’t look very comfortable—but in the end, decided to leave him in peace. He’d probably slept on worse out at the land.

  Glancing at the mirror and finger-combing her hair a little, Laurel crept downstairs as silently as she could. He was still there—he hadn’t so much as stirred. The morning light was gray and soft, and Laurel tiptoed over to sit where she could see Tamani’s face. It was strange to see him sleeping—completely relaxed, his expression unguarded. In some ways, it was weird to think of him sleeping at all. He was a constant in her life—someone who was always there when she needed him, day or night. She had never seen him when he wasn’t alert and ready.

  She watched him as the kitchen brightened to purple, then pink. Finally, a square of yellow sunlight started crawling across the kitchen floor. Tamani’s eyelashes fluttered, catching the light and casting narrow shadows over his bronze cheeks. Then his eyes snapped open and focused on Laurel. Instantly, he rolled away from her, coming up on his feet, hands held defensively in front of him.

  “Tam!” Laurel said.

  He looked at her, seeing her clearly for the first time, then straightened, dropping his hands. “Sorry,” he said, his voice rough and scratchy. He looked around the kitchen in confusion. “What happened?”

  “You burst in here last night around ten. And then you collapsed. I checked with Aaron out back. All he would say was that I was safe and he didn’t know why you were here. Is everything okay?”

  Tamani sat carefully on a barstool and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, more or less. I just pushed myself a little too hard.”

  “A little?” Laurel said, scolding him with a smile.

  “Maybe more than a little,” Tamani admitted, grinning wryly. “I should have just bunked out and waited till morning. Hey, can I steal something to eat, please?”

  “Sure,” Laurel said, going to the refrigerator. “What do you want? Peaches? Strawberries? I have some mango.”

  “Do you have vegetables? I would kill for some broccoli right now. No,” he amended. “I really shouldn’t have broccoli. I eat too much green stuff as it is—don’t want my hair to change.”

  Laurel scrutinized the fridge. “Jicama?” she asked. “It’s white.”

  “Actually that sounds really good, thank you.”

  Laurel pulled out a dish of jicama her mother had chopped up last night and set the whole thing in front of Tamani. It was way more than she could have eaten, but after last night, Tamani might need it all. Laurel watched him down several slices. “So what happened?” she asked, snagging a piece of the white veggie for herself.

  Instead of answering, Tamani pulled a small pouch from his pocket and handed it to her. “Be very careful with that,” he sa
id, curling her fingers around the bag. “I’m not sure I can get more.”

  “What is it?”

  Between the sunlight and the food, Tamani was growing more animated. He related his adventures from the previous night. “This powder . . . it’s like it slices out a piece of space and folds it in on itself. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Laurel peered into the pouch, unsure she knew how to begin testing such an unusual mixture. “You think this is fae magic?” she asked.

  “Possibly. It could be some new troll magic. Or old human magic, for all I know. But we seem to be accumulating a lot of evidence of a rogue Mixer.”

  “Are you still thinking it could be Yuki?” Laurel asked quietly.

  Tamani hesitated, his brows knit. “I’m not sure. I never, ever discount a possibility, but she’s so young. Could you make anything like this?”

  Laurel shook her head. “I seriously doubt it. It sounds incredibly complicated.”

  “But who else could it be?”

  They both sat silently, Tamani munching and thinking, Laurel absently sifting through the powder with her fingertips.

  “You know, everyone seems to think Yuki is some huge anomaly,” Laurel said. “But if there’s one wild faerie, why not two? Or ten? Or a hundred? What if Yuki is just some kind of . . . diversion?”

  Tamani pondered this for a moment. “It’s something to consider,” he said. “But we didn’t chase faeries to that cabin. Just trolls. And we don’t even know if they’re after you, or Yuki.”

  Laurel nodded.

  “Speaking of Yuki, I haven’t seen her in three days, and since we have a holiday next week, I had better go make amends while I can.”

  Laurel suppressed a wave of jealousy. It was his job!

  Tamani walked over to the back door and swung it open, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air. “Thank you for the exquisite comfort of your kitchen floor,” he said with a chuckle, though she knew he must be rather chagrined over the whole experience, “and for the excellent breakfast. I’m off.”