Dawn of the Shardheart

Every step jostled Stana's wounded shoulder. The pain was intense; she wanted to cry out but the drugs in her system stole her ability to move. She couldn’t cry out, let alone fight back. And with one of her eyes swollen shut, she could barely see what was going on; though thrown as she was over the mercenary's shoulder didn't help.

There was some clanging and some screeching. Was that a door opening?

"Heal her."

It wasn’t the man carrying her that spoke – the one responsible for her injuries – but the other. The mage.

"Why should I?" a woman asked.

"You're Saran Sworn," the mage said as Stana was dropped to the ground. She landed on her good side, thankfully, but the jolt sent pain shooting through her shoulder. "I hear your God doesn't have much patience for oath breakers."

Stana tried to move, to roll over and see what was going on. All she saw was the floor and the walls, both metal. Where were they?

"I'll need supplies," the woman said. "Your first aid kit."

"You're a mage," the mercenary said.

"And you've kept me in here for days, drugged so I can't use magic," she snapped back. "Do you want her to die?"

Stana didn’t want to die.

"She dies and you can explain it to the Academy," the mage announced.

She would have shuddered if she could. Whilst that comment confirmed her suspicions, Stana was now debating if death was preferable to a return to the Academy.

There was a long silence before the woman asked, "What if that's a mortal wound?"

And with the confidence of someone who'd dealt many blows in his career – mortal and not – the mercenary replied, "It's not."

"You'll get the first aid kit," the mage said. "And you will heal her. And then - maybe - we keep you drugged up here for a few more days. Instead of handing you over to the Academy with her."

Stana’s surge of dread was twofold. Mostly from what was to be her inevitable return to the Academy and what that would lead to. But a not insignificant part was about this woman. Why was the Academy also after her? Wasn't she Saran Sworn? A healer? What she done to cross them?

There was movement behind her and fingers came to rest lightly between Stana's shoulder blades.

"I'm going to roll you over," the woman said. Her voice was softer to Stana than it had been to the men. "On three. One, two, three." And on three, she tugged on Stana's clothes, using them to pull her over rather than her injured shoulder.

The pain flared for a moment but then Stana was on her back, looking up at the plate metal ceiling and the healer.

She was young - Stana's age, give or take a couple of years. Maybe a bit older if it was true that she'd sworn herself to Saran, the Goddess of Healing.

There was a thud off to one side, something heavy landing on the floor not too far away. It was followed by fading footsteps, that screeching sound again and the clang of a metal door slamming shut.

"Just you and me now," the woman said, twisting and busying herself with something just behind her. "I'm Rory, by the way."

Kneeling by Stana's bad side, Rory tied long hair back from her face with a length of material. She picked up a bottle from behind her and splashed some of the contents onto her tan hands, rubbing both together.

"Disinfectant," she explained. "Sorry but I'm going to have to put this on your wound and it's going to sting."

Stana tried to move, to protest. It didn't work.

"You've been drugged," Rory told her. "To keep you from fighting back." She paused. "I guess that didn't work so well. Anyway, it'll wear off soon enough but for the time being you won't be able to do much."

She pulled out a pair of scissors. "I have to cut your shirt to access the wound - and anything you're wearing underneath it probably. Given the situation, I'm going to assume you consent to medical treatment. If you don't, we can discuss it later, after I've saved your life."

There was nothing Stana could do but lie there as Rory started cutting through her blood stained shirt. She started from the bottom and worked her way up, keeping to Stana's left slightly, avoiding the wound on her right shoulder. The material tugged even as she cut several inches to one side - it would have been worse if she'd cut closer to the injury.

"Thran is probably - annoyingly - right," Rory commented as she worked. "This isn't likely to kill you, unless infection sets in. Not that there won't be repercussions if he's hit anything serious. But since you haven't bled out yet, you're unlikely to."

She was rather chatty for a healer, Stana thought, so she didn’t have to think about what came next.

Having reached Stana's collar, Rory put the scissors down so she could gently peel the material off and away from the wound. She hadn't cut through the breastband beneath the shirt yet but would probably have to shortly.

Except her hands stopped abruptly before she even came to the wound.

Knowing what Rory would find under her shirt, Stana had been waiting for it. She saw it, the moment Rory's eyes widened.

"Shardheart," Rory whispered.

I hate that nickname, Stana thought, unable to do anything but lie there as Rory stared at the collection of rocks sticking out of her skin.

Lifting one hand, Rory gently rested her fingers on the largest fragment. Sitting near the top and just to the left of Stana's sternum, it was an inch and a half long and an inch at its widest. Protruding out from the skin, the crystalline fragment was surprisingly warm to the touch, it's colour a deep blue, matching Stana’s eyes. Most extraordinarily, it pulsed; it and the many other smaller fragments scattered across Stana's torso and arms, all in time with her heartbeat.

With a visible jolt, Rory snapped out of her trance and shot Stana an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she said. "Where were we?"

Her hands moved back to the bloodied shirt stuck to Stana's skin. Without further comment or distraction, she peeled it away from the wound, before giving Stana's breastband the same treatment. With the material out of the way, out came the disinfectant, so Rory could clean around the wound to get a better look at it.

"Sorry," Rory muttered, even though Stana was unable to react to the stinging. "But I need to see what I'm working with. And you don't want an infection."

Right then, Stana just wanted it to be over with.

It was an agonising few minutes before Rory was happy that the wound was clean enough for inspection. Carefully probing the edges of the wound with her fingers, Rory said, "I need to assess the injury." She lifted her eyes to meet Stana's gaze.

They were very green, Stana noted.

"The easiest way to do that is with magic. You're from the Academy, so you probably know what that entails."

Stana did. Probably. All students were taught a simple probing spell that was highly adaptable, depending on what you wanted to use it for. Whilst she'd never used it on injuries herself, Stana knew that was a common application.

Lightly resting her palm over the wound, Rory closed her eyes to help her focus and shape the spell. It was small and uncomplicated, needing only a sliver of energy. But she was weakened from the drugs - a lower dose than what they'd given Stana but still enough to make the simplest of spells strenuous, the magic difficult to grasp and mould.

The Shard flared. Stana felt it; the familiar thrum in each and every fragment buried in her chest, arms and hand. Each pulsating piece felt the use of magic and instinctively responded, swelling up to reach the probing force with power of its own.

Had she been able to, Stana would have gasped; it was the first time she'd felt the Shard respond like that to anyone's magic but her own.

Rory snatched her hand away from Stana's shoulder like she'd been stung. She stared at the Shard, eyes wide as it pulsed brighter for a moment before returning to its normal deep blue colour. Then her eyes moved, meeting Stana's, her brows pulled together slightly.

"A catalyst?" Rory asked. "Can you control it?" She seemed to realise quickly that it was a stupid question because she shook her head. "Never mind. You can't tell me."

Still holding Stana's gaze, she rested one hand on Stana's forearm. "I want to heal you with magic. It'll be quicker and there will be fewer complications if I can. But I don't know how that Shard is going to react. If it helps, then there's a good chance I might also be able to burn away the drugs in your system. I'm going to assume you're okay with this." She took a deep breath. "I hope you're okay with this."

Stana was okay with the general principle of being healed. She didn't miss, however, that Rory neglected to cover what might happen if the Shard didn't help. Probably because she didn't know.

Stana did.

After a long moment, Rory gave a small nod and placed a hand either side of Stana's wound. "Please be helpful," she whispered before tapping into her magic.

Again, Stana felt the fragments of her Shard thrum. The power within rose up to meet Rory's gently probing threads of magic. She felt them entwine, the former bolstering the latter and encouraging them to spread out. Within moments the magic reached everywhere, from Stana's head to her toes and everything in between.

She was vaguely aware of the light. Brighter than it was before, each fragment of the Shard shone, no longer pulsing, instead giving off a steady stream of light. And as Rory's magic pooled within Stana's shoulder - now entirely numb - it swelled.

And everything went white.

#

Stana woke to someone shaking her shoulder.

"I'd normally let you rest," Rory said, hovering over her, "but we don't have time. They'll be coming to check you soon and I want to be gone when they do."

She helped Stana sit up and passed her a fresh shirt. Well, it was cleaner and in fewer pieces than the one she'd previously been wearing.

"You need to take it easy for a couple of weeks," Rory said, watching closely as Stana pulled the shirt on. At some point, her shoulder and by extension her chest had been bandaged.

Satisfied her work was holding, Rory got to her feet.

"Where were you when they picked you up?" she asked, holding out a hand to help Stana up.

Taking the offered hand, Stana was pulled to her feet and took a moment to look around.

They were in a cell. It was roomy enough - lying down in the middle she wouldn't be able to touch any walls - but it was barren. Walls, ceiling and door were made from sheets of metal - iron probably, judging by the spots of rust. The floor was also metal but with raised bumps for grip. There were some blankets covering one corner - Rory's bed? With no windows, there was no way to judge the time of day and their light source was a single strip light slightly recessed into the ceiling. And low in the background she could just make out the rumble of engines.

"I was in Riverfront," Stana said, moving her arm this way and that to test the range of motion. She felt an ache but not the shooting pains from before.

Rory startled at the answer. "Really?" she asked.

Stana nodded. "Yeah. Why, do you know it?"

"Not really," Rory replied. “I went there once on a trip with the Academy.”

Stana paused. "You're Academy?" she asked, trying to remember the conversation from earlier. The mage had threatened to hand Rory over to the Academy but not indicated why. Was she a runaway too?

"Clearly not anymore," Rory pointed out, arms folded over her chest. "And I suspect the same could be said for you, Shardheart."

"My name is Stana," she snapped, making Rory flinch. Embarrassed by the outburst, Stana turned away and stepped over to the nearest wall, resting her hand on it.

"I know," Rory said with a puzzled frown, watching as Stana walked the edge of the room, taking the long way to the door.

Stana didn't ask how Rory knew her name. Few in the Academy didn't.

"So," Rory said, "how do you feel about jumping out of an airship?"

Stana turned to stare at her. "Seriously?"

"We don't have much time," Rory told her. "I've been in here for days but they'll want to get you back to the Academy as soon as possible. So we can either wait until we land to make our escape - putting us that much closer to the place neither of us wants to go - or we can go now."

Stana stared at her, slack jawed. "Do you even know how high up we are?" she asked.

Rory shrugged. "Probably high enough to want parachutes."

Stana continued to stare at her. "You do realise this could kill us?"

Rory smirked a little at the use of the word 'us' but sobered up quickly. "Then I guess you have to decide whether your freedom is worth the risk."

Stana faltered. Wasn't that why she'd left in the first place? To gain freedom? If she went back, they’d take away what little freedom she'd had previously. And they wouldn't let her slip through their grasp again.

"Okay," she said after a moment, where Rory held her gaze, waiting. "But where are we going to get parachutes from?"

"This airship has a gondola with an open deck," Rory told her. "Logically, they'd keep their parachutes near the doors to the air deck. So, we find the air deck and we should find some parachutes."

Stana nodded. There was logic there. She liked logic. "Okay, but how do we get through this door?" she asked, left hand resting flat against it.

"Magic," Rory replied with a grin.

Stana rolled her eyes because that wasn't a helpful answer.

"Anything more specific?" she asked. "Because this is strong magic." Similar to what Rory had done earlier, Stana reached out with a sliver of her power to probe the spells in the door, her Shard reacting to glow and boost the spell. A second later she jerked her hand back, skin stinging from the wards that protected the door against probing. "Any spell powerful enough to get through that is going to draw attention."

If possible, Rory's smirk widened. "Yes but what about the magic in the walls?" Stana frowned.

Rory moved over and put her hand against one of the side walls. "They've spelled the door because that's the obvious way in and out. But the protections on the walls are nothing like what they've got on the door."

Stana stepped across to join Rory and rested her hand on the metal. She'd skimmed the surface earlier but when she looked closer, Rory was right. There were simple spells running through the surface but it was a token effort and sloppy at that. She could feel gaps, spots where the magic had faded over time.

Shard fragments glowing in her skin, Stana poured her magic across the walls - careful to avoid the door. Within moments, she knew precisely the spot.

Moving a couple of metres to the right, Stana tapped the wall at waist height. "Here," she said.

Rory came and stood next to her. "Can you get through?" she asked. "My magic's still fuzzy and this isn't my area of expertise."

Stana nodded. This she could do. Placing her palm against the wall, she carefully pressed a pin of magic into the gap, to create a small hole in the metal. Into that hole she channelled more magic, forcing it wider. She started slowly at first. Then, satisfied that the protective magic’s weren't going to react, she picked up the pace. Soon enough, there was a circle in the wall; a tunnel leading through to the next room, wide enough for them to climb through.

Rory whistled from over her shoulder. "That's a neat trick."

Stana didn't comment, choosing to climb through into the next room. That 'neat trick' was how she'd escaped from the Academy.

It was dark on the other side, the only light coming through the tunnel from their cell. From what Stana could see, it appeared to be storage; boxes littering the floor haphazardly. Waiting for Rory to follow, Stana held out her left hand, palm up. There was a single fragment of Shard located in that palm and she channelled magic into it. It glowed brightly, casting a faintly blue light to the room as she directed it around, searching for the door.

"Aren't you full of surprises," Rory commented, keeping her voice low as she stepped into the room. "Do you think you can close that up again?" she asked, gesturing the hole. "Just in case they come in here before they check on us."

Stana nodded. Closing the gap in the wall was easy enough but the hole in the magic protections wasn't something she could fix quickly.

Rather than watch Stana work, Rory moved over to the door and rested her hands on it.

That was the position Stana found her in when she finished what she was doing.

"There are six crew," Rory announced after a few minutes, breathing heavily. "I can't draw enough magic to work out where they are. I'm confident there's no one just outside this door but after that...only one way to find out."

She could have asked to borrow Stana's Shard. But she didn't. And Stana wasn't going to offer.

Instead, Stana asked, "Any idea which way we go?"

Rory shrugged. "Up?"

She opened the door and Stana cringed as its hinges groaned.

They slipped out as soon as the gap was wide enough for them to squeeze through, Rory first, Stana following. She let the light in her palm go out as they looked up and down the hallway before choosing to go left. Stepping lightly, they moved as quickly as they dared.

Their luck was in; they found stairs just around the first corner. Rory led the way up, first one floor and then another. They came out into a small dark room with wide windows on all four sides. Dark because it was night time and the deck outside was not well lit. It had been the middle of the night when Thran and the mage had made their move on Stana. What time was it now? How long had she been unconscious?

She glanced around; looking for a clock or some indicator dawn was approaching. It was one thing to jump out of an airship when you could see the ground coming up below you; it was something else entirely to do so in the dark when you had no idea where the ground was.

"Saran's luck," Rory muttered, drawing Stana's attention. "Only one parachute," she said when Stana looked to her, holding up a rucksack with extra straps.

Stana's stomach twisted - Rory was going to take that one parachute and leave her behind.

Then Rory added, "We'll have to share."

Relief swept through her but it was short lived. She didn't know how she felt at the prospect of sharing the parachute. Could it even take both their weights?

"It should be alright," Rory announced, predicting Stana's question. She was inspecting the bag and the various straps attached to it. "I think it could support an adult and a child. We probably average the same as a large adult and medium child."

They were of similar height, Stana noted, and on the shorter side of average. Rory was skinnier though. Was that normal, or a result of her incarceration?

Rory was already beginning to strap herself in and, sure enough, there were a set of straps left over on the front of the harness.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Stana asked, looking from Rory to the night sky outside.

Rory stared at her for a long moment. "I’ve just spent a lot of time and magic healing you. Do you really think I'm going to let you die jumping off an airship?" She sounded fed up. "Come on," she said, moving to the door. "We'll strap you in outside. I'm not sure we could walk strapped together."

Still hesitant, Stana followed Rory from the room.

Outside was cool, a not too gentle breeze sweeping across the deck. Intentionally or not, Rory led them to the leeward side and Stana followed. With the wind at their backs, they peered over the side, finding few sporadic lights below and a more in the distance. Riverfront?

"Irista's Bastard, this is a bad idea," Stana muttered. She didn't like to make a habit of calling upon the gods or their half-mortal children. But this was very much the domain of the Fortune Goddess' only child.

Rory turned to her but it was hard to judge her expression in the dark.

Which also meant it was hard to sort out the straps. What lights the ship had were pointed outwards, so it could see and be seen. It didn't really help Stana and Rory. Speaking only in hushed voices, they fumbled for a few minutes to get Stana secured, which really didn't do much for Stana's confidence about the whole thing.

"How are we even going to get over the side?" Stana asked. There was a barrier running along the side of the deck, presumably to keep people from falling off. It was roughly waist height, meaning it was just high enough that trying to clamber over it would be awkward.

"Trust me," Rory said, wrapping her arms around Stana's waist.

Distracted by the words - could she really trust someone she'd only just met - Stana wasn't paying that much attention to how Rory was positioning them.

And the next thing she knew they were falling. Fast.

She shrieked. Screamed really, screwing her eyes shut though it barely made a difference in the dark. Wind roared past her ears, audible over her screams, and pulled at her hair. When she paused for breath, she could hear Rory laughing.

There was a click, a whoosh and a sudden lurch. Their fall slowed abruptly; not to a complete standstill, but at a much gentler rate.

"You okay?" Rory asked. One of her arms was still around Stana's waist and Stana belated realised she was gripping it tightly with her hands.

"Sorry," she called out, letting go. Only, she now had no idea what to do with her hands.

Rory took Stana's arms and pulled them against Stana's waist. They trembled slightly. Stana adjusted their position, so her hands rested on Rory's.

"How do we know when we're close to the ground?" Stana asked.

"I have no idea," Rory replied, voice bright despite her shaking hands. Stana tensed. "I'm hoping we'll know when we get there."

Having opened her eyes when their descent slowed, Stana scrunched them shut again. Not that it helped.

They continued to fall but otherwise nothing happened. Stana cautiously opened her eyes.

"This is taking longer than I thought," she ventured hesitantly, wary of tempting any listening deities or their offspring.

"We must have been quite high up," Rory noted. "But I think we're getting closer to the ground."

Stana risked a look. Sure enough, what Rory said was true. Below them were fields, divided mostly by hedges but there did seem to be a road running through some of them. There were shapes in some of the fields - Stana could just make them out in the minimal light.

And suddenly, almost as if she'd lost time, the ground was getting a lot closer.

She screwed her eyes shut again.

"Bend your knees," Rory ordered, grip tightening around Stana's waist.

Stana did, tucking her legs up to her chest.

"Not what I meant!”

Before Stana could ask, there was a jolt and they pitched to the right. She snapped her eyes open as they hit the ground, landing on their sides.

Rory groaned.

"Are you okay?" Stana asked, fumbling for the straps that would release her. At least they'd landed in a grassy field, the ground relatively soft. The odd shapes she'd seen from above turned out to be sheep, most of which seemed quite content to ignore them. Once she was free of the parachute harness, Stana made to move, only to find Rory's arms still holding her in place.

"Rory?" Stana asked.

"Give me a minute," Rory said, sounding a little pained. A few seconds later, she let go of Stana and rolled onto her back.

Stana knelt by her side. "Did you break something?"

Rory shook her head. "No. But I tried to tap my magic and it hurts." She groaned. "It's like I've nothing left."

Stana blinked. "Oh."

Rory opened her eyes. "Oh?"

"You used the Shard," Stana told her. "It amplifies the amount of magical power you can use but you still act as the conduit for that power in order to cast the spell. Our bodies are only used to channelling so much at a time - usually our natural limit. Go beyond that and there are side effects. It's like physically overexerting yourself but with magic."

Rory groaned, closing her eyes again. "And you didn't think to mention this earlier?"

Honestly, the thought hadn't occurred to Stana. "I'm used to the side effects now. I didn't think about it." She didn't say that Rory was the first person to cast magic with her Shard since the accident. She also didn't mention that she was actually relieved it was the caster that suffered the after effects and not just her because she housed the Shard.

Rory muttered a string of curses under her breath.

Stana pulled her into a sitting position. "We can't stay here forever," she said. "What do we do with the parachute?"

Rory struggled with the straps, so Stana took over.

"Ditch it," Rory replied. Eying the sheep around them, she added, "Maybe not where it might get eaten."

It took some time to get the parachute all together and work out what to do with it. They ended up taking it with them initially, out of concern for the livestock.

With the ambient light improving, it seemed that dawn was approaching. This made crossing the field easier and they headed in the direction of the road - according to Rory. It involved finding a gate and then crossing another field but they got there, stashing the parachute under the hedge on the road side.

"So what comes next in your master plan?" Stana asked, inspecting her work. She'd pushed it as far under as she could and moved a few broken branches to help with the concealment.

"Riverfront," Rory said. She was sat at the edge of the road, leaning back, eyes closed, against the hedge. "Should be that way," she added, pointing to her right.

Stana looked at her for a moment. "Can you walk that far?" she asked. How far was it to Riverfront? How far had the airship travelled?

"There doesn't seem to be an alternative," Rory muttered as she climbed to her feet. She headed off in the direction she'd pointed. Slowly.

Stana quickly did the maths. It had been after midnight when Thran and the mage had abducted her; she remembered hearing the bells toll as she'd stumbled to her room, head fuzzy from what she'd assumed was that last drink. The sun wasn't quite up yet, but what time did it usually rise? Five, five-thirty? If she called it four-thirty and placed her getting aboard the ship somewhere between half past midnight and one o'clock, that meant three and a half to four hours of travelling. With a crew of six - fewer if the mage and Thran (as a mercenary) weren't required to actually run it - the airship couldn't be that big. Cruising speed of twenty-five to thirty miles an hour? Maybe a little more? Even so, four hours at thirty miles an hour was still 120 miles.

That probably wasn't Riverfront they'd seen in the distance.

Ahead, Rory stumbled.

Stana sighed and hurried to catch up. She stepped into Rory's path and crouched down in front of her. "Climb on," she said.

There was a pause before Rory asked, "Are you sure?"

"As long as you don't mind me casting a lightening spell on you," Stana said.

"You'll be able to maintain it? You won’t over exert your magic like me?"

"I'll be fine," Stana said, reasonably confident. "A little bit at a time is better than a lot all at once. Climb on."

Rory did.

Stana straightened and adjusted her grip before drawing out her magic and shaping the spell. It took a few moments to settle over Rory, who remained perfectly still as it did. And then the weight at her back decreased.

She started walking.

"Thank you," Rory said.

"You did heal me," Stana pointed out.

Rory tensed. "This is not taking it easy!" she exclaimed.

Stana winced at the loud volume right beside her ear. "Well you can barely walk. We'll make do."

For the most part, they travelled in silence, Rory resting and Stana focusing on the trek and the magic. Whilst a lightening spell was considered fairly basic magic, the drawback was that it required a constant flow of magic to maintain the effect. This meant applying at least some attention at all times.

They stopped periodically for breaks, only the rising sun giving them any reference of time passed.

They were maybe two hours or so down the road when they finally ran into someone. It was hard to say who was more surprised by the other.

The man and his son - a boy roughly ten years old - were working on a gate connecting the road to an adjoining field.

"Where in Barast's name did you two come from?" the man asked, naming the Farmer's God.

Rather than answer the question, Stana asked, "I don't suppose you have any water?" Her mouth was tacky, something that had been bothering her for at least half an hour.

"Dal!" the man snapped.

The boy quickly grabbed a nearby rucksack and pulled out a water flask. He hurried over, handing it to Stana when she lowered Rory to the ground, cancelling the spell at the same time.

"Thanks," Stana said. She took a few mouthfuls of the water, mindful not to leave it empty, before handing it over to Rory. Rory took a few sips before handing it back to Dal with her own thanks.

"Where does this road lead?" Stana asked.

The man eyed them both with a mix of confusion and concern. "The way you're going, Doveswatch, in about ten miles."

Stana winced. It was a long way to walk.

"I could take them," Dal offered, turning to his dad. "Mum wanted me to take that package to Mr Tommy and town's not that much farther."

"We can't pay," Rory interjected before the conversation could get much further. "Thieves took everything we had." Which was true - it just left out most of what actually happened.

The man looked from them to his son, who was clearly eager to take them to Doveswatch.

After a long moment, he said, "Fine."

Dal cheered.

"You go get the cart," he told Dal. "This one can barely stand," he said, gesturing Rory. Turning to Stana, he said, "You can hold this gatepost."

Stana moved to do as he said whilst Dal sprinted off down the road.

By the time Dal returned, sat atop a small horse drawn cart, the gatepost was in place and the gate secured. They all climbed in, though Dal's father jumped out as they passed a farmhouse ten minutes later.

The package, whatever it was, was nestled in the bottom of the cart and within minutes Rory was fast asleep against it. Whilst Stana was tempted to do the same, she felt at least one of them should keep an eye out on the road and sky for their kidnappers. Fortunately, Dal had brought more water and some food with him. So Stana tucked in as Dal gave her the lie of the land.

It turned out they were not as far from Riverfront as Stana had guessed. It lay to almost directly south of Doveswatch by just over sixty miles. Either the airship hadn't left as promptly as Stana had assumed or there had been a much greater headwind than she'd anticipated.

When she asked Dal about transport from Doveswatch, he was able to go into great detail about the trains running in and out of the coastal town.

"I love trains," he confided in Stana. "But I've never been on one. They go so fast all on their own, no horses. Mr Tommy's son works on one and he says he'll give me a ride if Mum and Dad say it's okay."

Of course, it was one thing knowing that there were trains going in and out of Doveswatch but that didn't help Stana work out where she was going next. She doubted her stuff was still in Riverfront and wondered if it was too risky to go back and check. She'd been wandering aimlessly for a few months now. She had no idea where to go next.

Dal dropped them off at the train station, which Stana suspected was more for him than for them. It looked to be mid-afternoon and whilst Rory claimed to be feeling better after a few hours of sleep in the back of the cart, Stana wasn't entirely convinced.

"We need to find somewhere you can rest properly," Stana told her. "Though that'll be hard with no money."

"There might be somewhere we can go," Rory suggested. She looked around before setting off in what seemed to be an arbitrary direction. It took only minutes to arrive at their destination.

The prowling lioness statues out front indicated it was a temple of Saran but otherwise it wasn't obvious. What had once been a small, non-descript stone building was now a mess of extensions and annexes, in a hodgepodge of styles and sizes. A sandstone block sat next to a brick tower with an overgrown wooden shed on the other side. As the lionesses suggested, Saran was not a goddess you wanted to cross. However, she cared little for how her temples appeared, so long as they served their function.

As they climbed the steps, a woman hurried past, a screaming child in her arms. At the top, they moved aside to let past a limping man with a cane.

It was safe to say that at any given time, there were more people in Saran's temples than in all others combined. They were where the sick and the injured came for medical aid. It was not somewhere Stana had spent any length of time. Rory, however, fit right in.

Ignoring the main entrance at the top of the stairs - the room beyond full of both healers and patients - Rory led Stana to a side door, attached to a two storey annex. It had a lioness' head inside a sun carved above the door - the symbol of the Saran Sworn.

Inside, they found an older man sweeping the floor. He frowned as they stepped in. "Can I help you?" he asked, putting his broom to one side.

Rory pulled on a cord hanging around her neck beneath her shirt. A gold metal disk hung from it, displaying the same symbol as was above the door.

"My friend and I are travelling," Rory said, the man easing up as soon as he saw the familiar lioness' head. "All our belongings have been taken and my magic is exhausted. Can we stay for the night? I'm out of magic right now but I can offer my services in the morning."

The man looked between Rory and Stana. "And your friend? Is she Sworn?"

They both shook their heads.

"Tenori's Right only extends to the Saran Sworn," the man said, shooting an apologetic look to Rory and then Stana.

"Tenori's Right?" Stana asked.

"Named for Saran's wandering son," the man explained. "All those sworn to our goddess can ask for hospitality in exchange for providing healing services."

"What about other services?" Stana asked. "I'm not a healer but I can do other things."

The man looked between them. Settling on Rory, he asked, "You will vouch for her?"

Rory nodded. "Yes."

He sighed. "Fine. But you'll have to share a room. I'll arrange food and fresh clothes. Follow me."

He led them along a hall to a set of stairs that led both up and down.

"Bathing facilities are down there," he told them, indicating the descending steps. They went up. He stopped outside a room with a 17 on the door. "None of these doors have locks," he told them. "We operate on trust. Having said that, I ask that you don't walk around unaccompanied," he said to Stana.

She nodded. That was fine by her.

The man looked between them for a moment. "Are you intending to use the washroom straight away?" he asked.

They exchanged a quick glance, quickly deciding, "Yes."

He nodded, perhaps a little relieved. "Then I'll have fresh clothes sent down and food waiting for you up here when you're done."

He was true to his word. Clean clothes were waiting for them after their baths and food was upstairs when they got there.

There wasn't much in the room; a bed against one wall, a table at the foot with just the one chair, and a wardrobe and chest of drawers against the other wall. There was a reasonable amount of room between them - you could open the wardrobe or chest of drawers and still move comfortably around.

"So you can ask for this wherever you go?" Stana asked between mouthfuls of spiced stew. "Because of Tenori's Right?"

"Hospitality, yes," Rory replied. "Though it looks different depending on where you go. This is pretty standard for the temples though."

Stana idly wondered how much money she would have saved had she been a healer and able to trade in medical treatment for a bed and meal. Not that it would make that much difference now. Her kidnappers would be richer though.

It wasn't even evening by the time they'd finished their food. But both women were tired and by unspoken agreement headed for bed. It was one bed, a single at that, but there were extra blankets and a pillow provided.

Stana began to set herself up in the gap between the bed and the furniture.

"You don't want the bed?" Rory asked.

Stana did but she said, "You're the one that needs it more."

"I've slept most of the day," Rory pointed out.

"That's an exaggeration," Stana told her. "And you forget, I'm much more familiar with Shard-derived burnout. Take the bed. I can manage on the floor."

For a moment Stana thought Rory was going to argue. Then she climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Stana turned the lights out and climbed into her blanket bed. And whilst it was far from the most comfortable place she'd ever slept, she was asleep in minutes.

#

The next day was a blur. Rory was taken away to treat patients, whilst Stana was dumped in the kitchen and spent the whole day cleaning pots and pans and plates. It wasn't the worst thing they could have had her doing. And keeping a wash cloth in her hand hid the Shard fragment in her palm from view. She'd taken to wearing a bandage around it but was worried one of the many healers would offer to treat the non-existent injury.

Rory came to 'collect' her later in the evening; at least an hour after the evening meal had finished being served.

"Did they keep you busy?" she teased.

"I have a new found respect for the Academy kitchen staff," Stana admitted. "What about you? Save any lives?"

"Probably not," Rory replied. "I mostly saw cuts and bruises. There were a couple of nasty infections but nothing immediately life threatening."

In their room, they found their old clothes washed and folded on the table. There was also a note, saying that their services had paid for two nights and breakfast in the morning if they wanted it.

"So what now?" Stana asked. She'd been thinking about it for most of the day. "Do you know what you're doing next?"

"Going home," Rory replied without hesitation. "I need to check on my brothers and sisters. I probably can't stay there but I'll figure that out once I know they're okay."

And before she could make any more decisions about her own path, Stana had one more question to ask. "Why is the Academy after you?"

Rory dropped onto the edge of the bed. "Because I left. You don't quit the Academy, apparently. I tried. Said I had to go home and take care of my siblings. They said no. Said I couldn't leave because I made a commitment to them. Doesn't matter that my oath to Saran overrules it. They said if I missed any classes, they'd take disciplinary action. I didn't realise that meant abducting me. I don't want to find out what happens if I end up back there." She had her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

On the one hand, it seemed a bit extreme to Stana. On the other, she could picture it easily.

Rory got up and, back to Stana, began arranging the blankets on the floor.

"You don't want the bed?" Stana joked.

"I had it last night," Rory replied without turning around. "It's your turn."

Her tone was off but Stana couldn't place why. She waited for Rory to settle under the blankets before turning out the lights and carefully making her way to the bed.

Not quite as exhausted as the previous night, Stana lay awake for a while, waiting for sleep to come. Instead, in the darkness, she heard a soft sob.

"Rory?" she called out quietly.

There was another muffled sob.

Stana moved from the bed and dropped to the floor. Sliding between the blankets, she wrapped an arm around Rory.

The dam broke and the other woman began to cry in earnest.

And between wrenching sobs, she managed to get out, "I missed their funeral."

Stana held her until she cried herself to sleep and for a long time after that.

#

"I'll keep you company until you get home," Stana announced at breakfast.

Rory blinked, unable to comment with a mouth full of food.

"I've been wandering aimlessly since I left the Academy," Stana told her. "I'm not in a rush to get anywhere. So, since I owe you for healing me and getting me off that airship, I'll make sure you get to your brothers and sisters."

Rory swallowed. "You don't have to."

Stana nodded. "I know. But I want to."

Rory looked at her for a long time. "Okay. But you might not like what we do next."

Stana frowned. "Why?"

"Because we need to catch a train and we have no money. How do you feel about jumping onto a moving train?"

Stana just stared at her.

"I'm kidding," Rory laughed. "I mean, it's got value as a backup plan..."

"I'm reconsidering staying with you," Stana muttered. "You have suicidal tendencies."

Rory smiled. "We haven't died yet."

Stana just rolled her eyes, which only made Rory laugh more.

#

Doveswatch train station was as busy as Dal made it out to be. It acted as a hub for trains going east towards the capital and the Academy, west along the coast and south to Riverfront. This meant there were a lot of people milling around, so Rory and Stana didn't look too out of place as they searched for the train that would take them in the right direction. Then it was just a case of getting aboard.

They had a few options, all of which were illegal to a degree. After ruling out stealing money or tickets, they agreed to see how far they could get by simply getting on the train without tickets.

Getting aboard was easy enough and they settled into a couple of unreserved seats.

"We'll stay here until the train's moving," Rory said. "Then we just have to dodge the conductor."

All in all, their luck had been going quite well, so it was with some surprise that within five minutes the conductor appeared. They hadn't even left the station yet.

"Company," Stana hissed when the man appeared at the end of the carriage.

Rory got to her feet. Raising her voice, she said, "This is the wrong cabin. Come on, I think we're this way."

She moved out of her seat, heading past Stana, away from the conductor.

"Aurora?"

Rory froze. Stana almost collided into her. Both turned in the direction of the man, who looked at Rory in shock.

"Gwilym?" Rory asked, equally shocked.

Stana looked from Rory to the middle-aged man standing further down the aisle. She slowly curled her left hand into a fist, hiding the tell-tale glow of the Shard fragment. It was only a simple stun spell. Just in case.

But Gwilym broke out into a broad smile and held his arms out wide. "Look at you! If my ma could see you now!" He closed the distance and reached past Stana to pull Rory into a hug.

And Rory let him, Stana noted. Welcomed it, even, judging by how tightly she hugged him back.

When they separated, Rory turned to Stana. "Stana, this is Gwilym. His mother was my first magic teacher." She touched Stana's clenched hand lightly with her fingers.

Stana let go of her magic and unclenched her fist.

Turning to Gwilym, Rory told him, "We don't have tickets for this train. All our money and our belongings were stolen."

Gwilym looked between them. "You're trying to get home?" he asked Rory.

She nodded.

He gave her a sad look. "I'm sorry about your parents. They were good people."

Rory’s hands clenched at her sides. "My brothers and sisters?"

"Well as could be expected when I saw them," Gwilym replied. "That was at the funeral."

Rory tensed.

"Are you going to throw us off the train?" Stana asked, choosing to interrupt the conversation before it got even more personal.

Gwilym looked from Rory to Stana and back again. "No, I'm not," he replied.

"I'll pay you back," Rory offered.

But Gwilym shook his head. "You want to pay me back? Take care of your siblings. They've missed you."

Stana opened her mouth to tell Gwilym to back off but he was reaching into his pouch, pulling out a pad of handwritten tickets. She decided to let it go, as he quickly filled in two, stamped them both and handed them over.

Stana went back to her seat as he and Rory exchanged goodbyes before Gwilym moved on down the carriage.

Taking the seat opposite Stana, Rory rested her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, looking down at the surface.

"You okay?" Stana asked quietly.

She heard Rory take a deep breath.

"I was cautioned against going to the Academy," Rory muttered. "By Gwilym's mother especially. But hearing that just made me want to go more. Maybe they were right. Maybe I should have never gone."

Touching Rory's elbow, Stana leaned forward, ducking her head low to find Rory's eyes. "I'm glad you did. I'd still be on that airship if you hadn't."

Rory snorted but straightened, leaning back and meeting's Stana's gaze. "That's the thing," she said. "I can't even convince myself it was the wrong thing to do. I'm a damn good healer and that's thanks to the Academy. I just wish I'd been smarter about leaving. Not told them I intended to for a start."

"Well, I'm still glad you were on that airship," Stana told her. Deciding they needed a change of subject, she asked, "So how many siblings do you have?"

"Four," Rory replied. "Two brothers and two sisters."

"Tell me about them?" Stana asked.

So Rory did.

#

Whilst Gwilym appeared a few times, he only stopped to talk to them once, just before the train pulled into Valmere.

"Make sure you visit my ma," he ordered Rory. "She'll want to see you even if she pretends she doesn't."

Rory nodded and promised she would.

Getting off the train at Valmere, they made their way through the streets to the edge of the town. There they stopped outside the last in a row of houses, a field on its far side with a lake beyond that.

Rory made her way up to the house and tried the front door. It was unlocked.

Stana stopped beside her.

"Where is everything?" Rory asked. The hallway was bare, stripped of all furnishings. Dark patches on the wallpaper indicated where pictures once hung and indentations in the carpet showed where furniture once stood.

Rory took a step forward but Stana grabbed her arm and pulled her back. The fingertips of her free hand rested on the door frame and the crystal fragment in her palm glowed.

"Spells," Stana muttered, her magic reaching out into the walls of the house. "Same as on the ship. It's a trap!"

She barely got the words out, Shard flaring as she threw up a spherical shield spell just in time for something to slam into it from behind. A force spell if she had to guess.

"I knew you would come here," a familiar voice commented, Stana immediately recognising it as the mage from the airship.

Turning, she found him stood in the road behind them, tall and lanky with magical energy dancing around his fingers.

"Oren! Where are my siblings?" Rory demanded.

Oren shrugged casually. "Gone before I got here. But I wagered you were unlikely to know that, since the Academy didn't. For someone regarded as one of their brightest, it was pretty stupid to come here, don't you think?"

"We're not going back there," Stana told him.

He gave her a pitying look. "You don't really have a choice," he told her. Turning to Rory, he said, "You, on the other hand, I can bargain with. Help me take down the Shardheart and I'll pretend I never found you."

Stana couldn't look at Rory for that long agonising moment before she replied, "Never going to happen."

Another force spell battered Stana's shield.

"Know any combat magic?" Stana asked.

"I'm a healer," Rory pointed out. "What about you?"

Stana shook her head. "Not really. Not until after the accident."

Because of course the Academy had wanted to see her destructive potential.

The problem was, Stana only knew a handful of 'combat' spells. Oren knew a lot more.

With the trap laden house at their back, Stana had little choice but to stand there as Oren threw more spells her way. Each collided with her Shard powered shield and bounced off or detonated on impact. Seven, eight, nine spells he threw one after another before pausing for a moment. Then he threw one more.

The Shard blazed in Stana's chest and arms, its light visible through her clothing, and she cried out. This attack wasn't like the others. Instead of a short sharp burst, it was continuous. To keep her shield alive, the Shard took her power and amplified it. Stopping would open them up to Oren's attack. Carrying on meant allowing more magic that she could possibly hold flow through her.

It was unrelenting. But Stana knew unrelenting. She'd done this before; stood before an attack she shouldn't have had a chance of surviving and strained under the pain of the Shard forcing magic through her. Last time had been at the Academy; a test to see how long she could last. To find the depths of her Shard given power.

To see if they could overpower her if necessary.

Hands held out before her and clenched into fists, Stana grit her teeth and held on. She refused to go back to that. To go back to worse.

Oren dropped his spell after a minute. Panting, he stared at Stana with a narrowed gaze.

"You okay?" Rory asked from her back.

"No," Stana replied. She was angry. She was hurt.

Oren lifted a hand.

Stana braced herself.

He keeled over.

"What in the name of the Twelve Gods is going on here?" a voice demanded.

"Master Arla?" Rory gasped.

Stana risked a glance to the side, finding an older woman storming down the road towards them, a crowd of ten or so people in her wake.

"Aurora Elesi you better have a good explanation for all this!" the woman snapped as she approached. She looked to Stana. "And why are you lit up like the Lady Night?"

Stana closed her eyes, as much to ignore their looks as to calm herself down. Only when the Shard was back in its resting state, pulsing softly, did she open them again. She kept her hands clenched though.

"Master Arla?" Rory repeated, still staring in shock at the woman.

"What? You think I wouldn't recognise you even after all these years?" the woman asked. Closing the last of the distance, she pulled Rory into a tight hug. "Idiot girl. Why didn't you get here sooner? Your uncle picked up your brothers and sisters four days ago. Took them home with him."

"They're safe?" Rory asked.

"Safe as they can be with that idiot. Honestly, your family is just one headache after another."

Rory laughed as she clutched Arla. "Saran watch over them," she whispered.

Arla snorted. "So you're Sworn, hmm? At least something good came out of your time in that wretched place." She let Rory go and looked her up and down. "I guess you could have turned out worse," she decided and moved her attention to Stana. "And you must be the Shardheart."

Stana tensed. Sure, of course people in small towns knew that nickname. Why wouldn't they?

"I don't know whether to be impressed or disappointed," Arla said. "You clearly had no idea what you were doing in that fight. Managed to hold on though. I thought you'd be taller."

And with that she turned her attention to the heap on the ground that was Oren, gesturing for a couple from the crowd to come with her.

"That's Gwilym's mother," Rory whispered to Stana. "My first magic teacher." She lightly touched the back of Stana's hand. "She speaks to everyone like that. Ignore it."

Stana unclenched her hands. "I hate that nickname."

Rory nodded. "I know."

"Who is this fellow anyway?" Arla called out from the fallen mage.

Rory rolled her eyes and headed over, tugging Stana's hand once before letting it drop. "His name's Oren," she replied. "He's the mage that drugged and kidnapped us. He held us on an airship before we escaped."

"Sent by the Academy?" Arla asked.

Rory nodded.

"I told you not to go there."

Rory sighed. "Yes master."

Arla looked to Stana. "So why did you leave? That Shard in your chest not enough to keep you cosy for a lifetime?"

"Master," Rory interrupted before Stana could reply. "Stana's reasons are her own. And the Shard has its drawbacks."

Arla nodded. "So it should. The Tears of the Gods were never meant to be wielded by mortals." She looked to Oren, now slung between two men. "We can do something with him. But what are you two going to do now?"

Stana and Rory exchanged glances.

"They'll just send more people after you," Arla said. "I can get word to your uncle; make sure he keeps the younger ones safe. But that place won't let you get away." She looked pointedly at Stana. "They definitely won't let you stay away."

"I'm not going back there," Stana told her.

Arla looked between them. "Well, you girls sort out what you're doing. We'll take care of the unwanted guest."

She waved the two men holding Oren down the road and followed along after them. The rest of the crowd - those that hadn't left already - dispersed. This left Stana and Rory standing outside Rory’s old home.

"Are you okay?" Rory asked. "That looked like it hurt."

"It did," Stana replied. "Dredged up some stuff as well."

"Sorry. You wouldn't have had to deal with that if you'd gone your own way."

Stana shrugged. "Maybe. But they'd have caught up with me eventually. Will probably catch up with me again."

Rory sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"We?" Stana asked.

"Do you not want my company?" Rory teased. More seriously, she said, "It might make more sense to split up. You're obviously a higher priority. But I prefer our chances if we stick together. Not that I know what we should do or where we should go. But I hear two mages are better than one."

"Depends on the mages," Stana commented.

Rory gave a small nod, conceding that point.

"Thank you," Stana said. "For not siding with him when offered your freedom for mine."

Rory gave her an offended look. "I would never do that."

"I know. But your master's right," Stana said. "The Academy isn't going to stop looking for me."

"I'm not letting you turn yourself in, if that's what you're suggesting," Rory warned.

Stana shook her head. "No. But how many Orens can we face? What if they send more after us? My grasp of combat magic is poor at best. The only advantage I have is this rock in my chest but you know the side effects of that."

Rory did remember and was suddenly alarmed. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

Stana shook her head. "Adrenaline's still in my system. Give it a couple of hours and I'll need to sleep it off."

They each took a moment.

"So what are you suggesting?" Rory asked.

"I need to find a reason for the Academy to stop coming after me," Stana announced. She took a deep breath. "Either I become so powerful they can't do anything to me.

"Or I take down the Academy."

The words sent a shiver down Rory's spine. "And how do you plan on doing that?" she asked.

Stana gave a helpless shrug. "I have no idea. I'm not even sure it's possible."

Rory took a breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay," she said. "Then we'll work on that. Rory and Stana against the Academy. They'll write stories about us."

Stana gave a small laugh. "Sure."

It would be a hell of a story, if this was only the start.

Entry for The World Anvil Anthology presented by Kyanite Publishing

Competition Homepage