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He turned to face her, his smile bright again. "I guess I did all right, then?"

Fay couldn't help it, she started to laugh again. The sense in his mind and tone of his voice was so much like a little boy wanting to impress someone but afraid to ask for praise. She laughed as hard at this as she had when he'd asked about using flint and lost contact with his mind as she collapsed sideways. It took her a minute to get herself back under control, and she only managed it so quickly because she realized he wasn't laughing with her this time.

Wiping her eyes, she said, "I'm sorry. I keep laughing at you, and I shouldn't. But you did better than all right, Tavis."

A strange look came into his face, a complex mix of hope and satisfaction she thought was because of his success with the fire and her compliment. He turned back to the fire, then stood up and went to his bag. As he rummaged for something, she thought she heard him say quietly, "I like it when you laugh."

After a minute, he pulled a long, narrow box out of his bag, several inches in length. He returned to sit beside her, holding the box in his lap. She set herself back in contact with his mind again and found he was awash in conflicting feelings, anticipation, worry, hope and fear. It confused and unnerved her and she suddenly wanted to get the lesson over with, anything to escape the emotions she felt from him.

"I need to open this box, but I don't know how. I think it has some kind of locking spell on it. I've tried to figure it out, but I can't. It just makes my hand tingle when I touch it and that's all I get. Can you teach me how to open it? Or, if you can't, can you open it for me? I- I really need to see what's inside," he said earnestly, his brilliant eyes locked with hers.

She made herself look down at the box that he was now holding out to her. It was black, with red lacquer covering the top and it brought several memories to her mind. She had seen boxes like this often in her childhood, and at the academies later. It was designed to contain a scroll of parchment and could only be opened by the intended recipient. They were usually keyed so that the recipient didn't need magic to open the box, but she guessed that this one hadn't been. When she laid her fingers on it, they heated in warning and she withdrew her hand quickly. That he didn't experience the same sensation told her that it was indeed his to open.

"I can't open this for you. The way these are designed, it will only open for you, but I think you'll need magic to unlock it." He sagged a little and laid it back in his lap. "The key here is to consider yourself and your right to open it, and lay those thoughts across the spellwork. Do you know how to see a constructed spell?"

"Um, no," he said, and she could feel his embarrassment.

"All right, then I'll teach you that first. It would be one of the earliest lessons you'd have at the academy anyway, because many spells require you to be able to see them to interact properly with them. Just let your mind go blank. I'll show you how to concentrate so that your senses will perceive the spell in a visual way." She felt him follow her instructions and was pleasantly surprised at how quickly and completely he managed it. She realized it must be something he had practiced before. Putting aside the questions that raised, she laid a very delicate touch across his mind, refocusing his senses and the way they fed information to his mind. His gasp told her when she had succeeded.

"Are they always so beautiful?" he asked her, and it was such an echo of what she herself had said on first seeing a spell like this that she smiled.

"Yes, I've always found them to be exquisite, even the dangerous ones I've seen. Especially those, to tell you the truth. Now, do you see where you need to lay those thoughts I mentioned?"

"I think so. There seems to be almost a hole in the center that it's all built around, like a real lock."

"Exactly there, yes. The two thoughts should be laid one across the other, intersecting at the center of that void in the spellwork. It shouldn't be too hard if you take your time laying them." She watched as he placed the first fairly quickly, the thought of himself. He had more trouble laying the second, his right to open it. She knew some of it was the placement, but she sensed doubt as well. She said quietly to him, "Tavis, you are meant to open it. I'm sure of it. You can hold the box, handle it, where the locking spell gave me a clear warning not to even touch it. This box is for you alone. I don't know who gave it to you, but I am certain that they meant for you to open it."

For a moment, his doubts lingered, his thoughts and feelings shifting rapidly. Before she could think of how else to encourage him, his concerns resolved into determination and the necessary thought quickly fell into exactly the right place. She watched the spell spin into motion and then dissolve, the top of the box splitting down the center and falling open. A slender rolled parchment lay inside. Fay withdrew her mind from his and sat back, pulling her bag of supplies onto her lap and taking out bread and dried meat for herself for dinner. Beside her, Tavis stood and returned to his side of the fire.

Though she tried to concentrate on eating, she was distantly aware that he had pulled the rolled parchment out of the box when he sat down and was now unrolling and reading it. Part of her was surprised to find that he could read, a skill rare among country folk, but then she realized that his mother could have taught him before she left. No one could graduate an academy without mastering the written word. She tried not to see the sad smile that spread across his face or the frown that followed it. When he let the parchment roll back up, he returned it to the box and closed it. Unable to pretend she didn't seen the tear glint in the firelight as it tracked down his face, she asked, "Tavis, are you all right?"

It was a while before he answered. Finally, his voice low and a little rough, he said, "I'm fine, Fay. Go to sleep. I'll take first watch. I've got a lot to think about, that's all."

She couldn't think of any way to argue with him, so she laid out her bedroll and climbed in, her head pillowed on her pack. Before she fell asleep, she wondered if helping him get the box open had been a mistake.

The moment her eyes closed, the dream claimed her. The blond man was watching her again, his smile broader than before, triumphant. He came to her almost immediately. When he put his hands on her waist though, she saw a minute change in his expression, a touch of confusion, there and gone so fast that she wasn’t sure what it meant.

"At last, so close, Faylanna."

"Why do you know my name and I don’t know yours?" She was startled by the sound of her own voice. She’d never spoken in one of these dreams before. She’d always been sure that she couldn’t, or that he wouldn’t be able to hear her.

"Does it matter," he asked as he pulled her closer, inhaling deeply as his arms encircled her. "I know you. After all these years, does it matter how, or why you know me?"

She looked up into his eyes, surprised. He’d heard her and spoken, responding to her question, though not with an answer she understood. Thinking back, she had only ever heard him speak once, in the last dream of him she could remember.

"It’s almost time, Faylanna. Will you be there, when the time comes?" His expression had become troubled. "I’ve waited so long, watching. I need you."

"Why? What time? I don’t understand."

He kissed her forehead, then lay his own against it. "It doesn’t matter, just be ready. I can’t let you go, not after so long. He can’t have you. We belong together, Faylanna."

"Who can’t have me? What are you talking about?"

His smile was full of satisfaction. "Yes, keep thinking that way. There can be only you and I, my sweet. Never forget that, even if all else fades."

Everything around her was growing dark and she could feel herself drifting into a deeper sleep, but his words seemed to echo around her.

Chapter 6

It took them another day to reach the wide dirt road that lead to Harkol. Bathed in the afternoon sun, Fay stared at the sign that pointed the way. She sighed, and turned to Tavis. "I guess this is where we part company."

He looked at her, biting his lower lip slightly, thinking. "I- Could I come with you, Fay?" He hesitated, then his words rushed ahead. "I just don't feel right, letting you go off alone. I've heard the kinds of thing that can happen to a young woman alone."

She was amused by the implication that she needed his protection. But his question had been a strange echo of her own feelings. She was enjoying his company, and didn't want to watch him ride away. After the previous night's revelation, she thought this was partly her magic prompting her about a potential partner, but she wondered if there could be more to it. Her desire for him to continue with her felt genuine. She thought he might be experiencing the same subtle push from within, though it occurred to her that he might not recognize it as she had. She thought about explaining the things he was likely feeling, only to find she couldn't, not if that might lead him to leave. "What about finding your mother? I don't know how long I'll be, or where I'll be going afterward."

He opened his mouth, and closed it again, frowning. He looked up the highway in the direction of Rianza, then shrugged, turning back to her. "She can wait. I don't even know if she really wants to see me. She never came back, after all."

"Well, you can come with me at least as far as Harkol. I don't know exactly where this Eliar lives, and I was hoping that someone in the village could tell me. Beyond that, we'll work it out later. I don't want to keep you from the academy for too long." She turned Rain off the highway. As she did, she thought she heard him mutter something about being too old for the academy. Fay decided in that moment that she would take him there herself and refuse to let them deny him a place. The vehemence of her determination startled her.

She wasn't entirely sure when the sensation began but it was fairly strong when she finally became fully aware of it. The feeling was like riding through spider webs that became stronger the further they went. She pulled on the reins to halt the stallion. Tavis, not expecting the sudden stop, rode several paces beyond her, then turned the mare, who he had introduced to her as Swift, and rode back to her.

"What's wrong?"

She shuddered. Now that she was standing still, she could feel something different, more unnerving, like a warping around the edge of her senses. Her hearing and vision were amplified already by her magic, searching out any sign that someone was following or about to attack them. The thought had been in the back of her mind since that morning that Neoro and his guards had probably reached Rianza already. How long would it take them to discover she wasn't there and turn back, she had wondered. The thought made her nervous, though being off the highway had helped some. She was sure that this had nothing to do with them though. She could almost taste magic in the air as she nudged Rain around in a circle. Shifting her perceptions, she gasped. The woods and road were crisscrossed with traces. The trail wasn't from one person either. She could see traces of different colors and thicknesses. Though this made her more nervous still, it wasn't the worst part. For no reason she could explain, the sickly yellow trace that ran back and forth across the forest and pulsed in front of her eyes made her afraid.

"Fay?" Tavis tried again, his voice edged with concern. He was nearly close enough to reach out and touch her now.

She brought a finger to her lips, but didn't take her eyes from the throbbing yellow trace closest to her, only a couple of feet from where she had stopped. She slid from Rain's back and held the reins out to Tavis without turning. When she felt them leave her hand, she slowly walked to the ugly yellow trail across the road and knelt beside it. Behind her, she heard him hiss and ask in a soft voice that wouldn't have carried much beyond her, "What is that?"

"All magical beings or those with magic born in them leave a trail in the world where they walk. We call these traces. If you know how to look for magic, you can see them," she said, her words as quiet as his own had been.

"Why don't I see one where you were riding? I only see it from where you got off Rain."

"Like I said, it's where we walk. Our feet have to touch the ground to leave it. Riding hides our trace." She didn't mention that there were other ways to track a Magicia. Instead, she gathered her concentration and courage. Fay wasn't sure if what she wanted to do was within her grasp, but she had to try. Reading a trace was usually something that required partners working together, but she didn't want to ride further without some idea of what had left this trace. She closed her eyes and laid her fingertips on the pulsing yellow in front of her, ready to yank them away at once.

A very faint sense came to her, wind redolent with scents. Buoyed by this success, she pushed it aside and let another come to her, a bounding feeling. Running, she thought, the one who left this trace was running through the forest. In wonder, she pushed that aside too and let something else come. Dirt, between toes and claws. An animal, she realized, not a human, and probably a predator. She pushed that away but then nothing replaced it, though she was still aware of the things she had already sensed.

She knew she should feel good to have gotten even that much, but it wasn't enough. Though she knew the creature had to be magical in nature to leave a trace, she hadn't gotten anything that would tell her what it was. She needed more. She couldn't rush them into the situation blind. She ignored the tingling in her fingertips and placed the rest of her hand, the palm and full lengths of her fingers, down in the trace. It was like a floodgate opened to her. A torrent of sensations blazed through her, fleshing out the things she had seen. The scented wind became the telltales of prey it could hunt, deer, squirrels, rabbits and others. The running became the lower vision of a beast, leaping through the undergrowth, darting around trees, snapping at a rodent startled into movement by its passage. The feel of dirt became the give of soil under four feet as it pounded through the forest. There was more though, something deeper than those sensations and visions. She could feel it just beyond her senses, but not out of her reach if she tried.