The carriage rocked back and forth along the rocky dirt road across the boggy terrain. The wind blew in from the approaching sea and whistled through the cracks of the coach.
Cold, tedious and with everything jostling about, she couldn't read; indeed, she could barely think. She wasn't especially fond of reading but was ready to do anything to stifle boredom.
To make matters worse, they planned to give her a traveling companion soon. It could be any number of kinds, but the nymphs and shifters already in their company seemed uninteresting. Half would die taking the board certifications anyways. Maybe more.
Despite already passing by her home territory and many elves possessing powerful magic, none of her kind was with them. It disappointed her more than she wanted to admit. But the government would never travel into the Draswood without an invitation, let alone barge in and demand elven witches.
They weren't fools.
Imani tried to keep to herself. But, as the only high bred Norn elf, she still drew attention, even with glamour.
The fascinating person in their group hadn't shown his face again, so she wouldn't either.
In the past three days, they'd left the nymph territories of the Riverlands and Meadowlands and entered the Moorlands. Pixie territory. The Neshuin coast and the capital were close.
Around midday, she sensed Stralas' magic long before she saw it, like a collective buzzing over her skin. The wards protecting the city started far outside the perimeter. Imani kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, heart hammering in anticipation.
Shadowed outlines of the great walls finally came into focus as they made their way up the rocky coast.
Structures rose on the peninsula in the distance, too. Then, as the massive capital of the Light Kingdom became more prominent, their company became hushed.
An hour later, they stopped at a crossroads, one in abject disrepair. While Imani had been keen to see the cityscape from this view, an invisible fog of uneasiness was hanging in the air. Even she could tell this was a different route into the city.
Their caravan halted entirely, and she whipped her head out the door to get a look.
Immediately, the wind ruffled her cloak and hair, which smelled like the sea, reminding her of the male nymph, the Master witch.
Soldiers shouted indiscriminate orders down the line, ordering them back into the carriages with the rest of the apprentices. A scuffle caused Imani to stand up straighter. She hopped down, scurrying to hide behind a tree near the dirt road they'd stopped at and surveyed the scene.
The breeze spun off the cotton grass in a field ahead and played with the blue hair of a diminutive woman pointing her fingers at the soldiers, shouting something indiscriminate. Upon closer examination, she looked like a child but was undoubtedly an adult.
Imani's brows shot up.
Delicate, translucent, moth-shaped wings snapped out and fluttered with surprising force.
While Draswood elves only seemed elusive, Moorlands pixies were truly rare. Only a small number remained after the Plains' populations were decimated years ago by several Fabric events, not to mention those taken captive by the more ruthless covens over the past century. As such, no one saw pixies in their larger forms outside the safety of their home territory.
Imani wanted to get her hands on some pixie dust of any variety, one of the most coveted magic items.
Some versions of dark pixie dust could raise the dead, according to rumors she'd heard in Fen's bed.
But that same dust also made them powerful and dangerous.
Blue hair shining, the fierce pixie arched her wand over her head and summoned a shield of defensive magic. An invisible wall shimmered into existence. It ensconced the pixie, immediately blasting the soldiers surrounding her. Stumbling backward, he fell as several more created a perimeter around this tiny beast, and she roared, then cut two more down, blood splattering.
Whoever she was, Imani immediately thought this witch would be worth keeping tabs on.
There were now a dozen soldiers surrounding the sprite pixie.
Imani flinched as another blast sent dirt flying. The pixie flung elemental magic at anyone who came close. Terrestrial and wind magic. The ground shook as she cracked a deep hole in the dirt around her, and one soldier fell inside, which Imani immensely enjoyed. Foot soldiers wielded laughable magic at best.
This pixie possessed enough magic to take out at least five alone and was adept at wielding it.
All delight faded from Imani's face when the master approached in her periphery. Everyone's eyes tracked him, each one staring down the handsome witch from the Order.
Flanked by two other soldiers, he looked calm. Almost amused.
He shrugged his cloak off over broad shoulders. He was fairly handsome, whatever his breed, and likely aware of this fact. He seemed less put together today, though, traveling showing on him. His beard looked longer, and his hair was windswept, tied back in a messy knot at the nape of his neck.
As he approached her, the master witch's dark crimson robes swirled around him in the breeze she created.
Ten feet out, the Master stopped. The soldiers scattered behind him like children hiding in their mother's skirts. He smirked and pointed his wand at the pixie. Gray, dull clouds above began swirling while the wind picked up. More current than the woman was calling.
"We must do our part for this kingdom, including you, pix. So, you're coming with us—one way is painful, the other is not. I don't want to hurt you, little one."
Imani gritted her teeth at his words.
But the female just smiled, unforgiving, staring the Master dead in the eye. Her tiny voice boomed loud even as a massive line of ground broke from her spell. "Call me little again, and I'll shove my wand so far up your ass you'll be shitting your snide attitude out through your nostrils for months."
In perfect control, she stopped the crack mere inches from dropping him to his death and laughed.
Oh, Imani liked her very much.
To his credit, he didn't even flinch. Instead, a savage, unkind grin darkened the nymph witch's face.
Thunder rumbled in the clouds above, answering the Master. A vertical swipe with his wand called a lightning bolt down from the sky, blasting through her barrier ward.
A crackling current filled the air, and the pixie's blood-chilling scream rattled Imani's chest.
Dust rose and swirled in response to the impact. When it cleared, the pixie was on her back, struggling against invisible ropes no doubt wielded by the Master. She snarled and snapped her teeth, practically feral, while he seemed relaxed. Like it was nothing.
A longing wrapped around her heart after witnessing the command of magic the nymph and pixie possessed.
He approached slowly and inclined his head. As if debating whether to squish a bug he'd captured. With a flick of his hand, the soldiers surrounded her again. Beating her didn't seem fair at all, but they delivered it with enthusiasm anyways.
Eventually, they carried her away. Then, still invisible, Imani started to retreat as well.
Heat crept down her spine, and she froze. The Master watched her without seeing her.
It took him far longer than she liked to relent. But he eventually strode away.
- - -
Frigid air blasted Imani, and her head snapped to the right where the coach door had flung open. She'd only returned inside moments before and blinked, staring dumbly at her new companion.
Crawling into the seat opposite Imani, the pixie sat back and sighed loudly.
Imani stared unabashed, overcome with the curiosity of seeing her first pixie. Although her true form was measured in inches, not feet, she appeared in her larger body today, which was not much bigger than a Norn wood elf. With the typical blue hair of a pixie cut blunt around her chin, frazzled by the wind and lightning, her features were severe but pretty.
Almond-shaped eyes with a sapphire hue and sharp cunningness darted around at her surroundings. "So, this is what it's like to be in a gilded cage being marched to your death," she muttered, shifting her weight and hugging her cloak tighter. A big bruise and gash on her cheek looked painful. Based on how she tentatively tried to get comfortable, Imani guessed she had more on her back and stomach.
"I don't have healing magic," Imani said, studying her more, "but if you let me inspect them, I could perform some numbing enchantments and charms." Her alteration would heal, but she didn't dare mention it.
A suspicious look swept over the pixie's face. "I know better than to touch one of your kind," she said, raking her gaze over Imani's body from top to bottom. "Besides, when they look at me, I want them to remember that not everyone is going quietly to their execution."
In Imani's opinion, unlike others in their company, the pixie wouldn't have to worry about surviving the Assessments. But Imani pressed her mouth into a thin line, still unsure what to make of her.
Silence fell for several minutes, but she could feel the pixie observing her.
"Let me guess, you've never seen a Norn elf before?" Imani asked, desperate for the staring to stop.
"No, I've seen a few. Even females, if you can believe it." She settled her gaze out the window. "I'm having a hard time believing they braved the Draswood to retrieve a creature like you. I can tell you're not even much to look at with just a simple illusion compared to other females. Even if you are a potential master witch."
Imani bristled. "I'm not a creature that's retrieved easily, I promise you."
"Let me see your markings then." It wasn't a demanding or sneering tone. But it was a challenge.
Swallowing hard, Imani regarded her for a moment. Witches kept their brands close to their chests. The impolite request made her nervous.
Before she could change her mind, Imani loosed the glamour and revealed a bit more of her true form.
Then shoved her sleeves up, thrusting her arms forward.
Her markings sparkled even in the dim light, showing her sigil and legal Essenheim brands. The rest remained perfectly undetectable.
Muttering to herself more, the pixie was careful not to touch, but she took her time examining them all.
Finally, she looked back up. "Yes, retrieving you against your will might be harder than expected," she murmured. "Without healing magic, you look pristine. Not a scratch on you. I don't believe for a second the Norn let a young, unmated female go without a fight. But, even if they did, let's be honest—your kind never leaves the Draswood without your special magic cunt so heavily glamoured that no one notices."
"It seems some of us do."
In truth, Imani was heavily glamoured, just not with the impenetrable tether magic the pix expected. But her companion still didn't sense any of it.
Which meant the spell was more powerful than her.
Which the pixie clearly didn't think was possible.
Good. Thank the Gods.
Sitting back with a heavy sigh, the pix stared at Imani. "So, how did you come to be here?"
"I haven't lived in the Draswood since I was a child. I'm from the Riverlands."
"You lived with the Naiads? That's... that's very strange." The pixie paused and gave Imani a once over.
"You come from excellent breeding—I can tell by the wandlore brand."
Despite Imani's mediocre appearance, she knew what the pix meant—some people were superior to others in looks, power or magic. The closest a person could get to the definitive versions of the breed.
"You're clearly powerful. Why don't you feel like the other high bred females I've encountered?"
Despite the innocent question, Imani's stomach was in knots. The pixie was bright, and although she hadn't figured her out, she sensed Imani was hiding something. Just like the master witch did. How many people in the capital would perceive the same? If she couldn't stay inconspicuous, she would be in trouble.
She averted her eyes from the window before replying. "I have more nymph in me from my grandmother.
My looks are muted, and my feeding draw is easily hidden with the light illusion magic you sense." All valid for her sister. "If you were an unmated male, I'm sure you'd feel differently about me."
"Fucking elves." She rolled her eyes. "People wouldn't love you half as much without that feeding draw."
"I certainly hope someone who looks like you has markings to go with the attitude," Imani hit back smoothly.
"I do."