The waves crashed against the rocks with such force that the entire island seemed to tremble beneath them. Zoelyn shrank back from the cold water and walked slowly to the back of the ship. The entire island was barren without so much as a blade of grass in sight. Her eyes scanned the black water surrounding them and she shivered. This was a place of nightmares to her after her time in the lush valleys of Arovan.
“Deadlands,” the Blight whispered beside her and she barely caught the single word through the cutting wind. She wasn’t sure if he had tried to tell her more or not, but knew it was futile to ask him to repeat himself. Even if he did, it would be a whisper, and the wind and waves were so loud she would miss his words a second time.
“Val, can you do something about this wind, please?” Jala called loudly from near the ship’s door. Zoelyn turned to watch the High Lady as she stepped away from the ship, a long white coat wrapped tightly around her. Valor had moved several feet away and was staring up at the sky with a look of concentration showing on his handsome face.
“I should be able to,” Valor called back after a long moment and slowly raised his hand to the sky. Zoelyn stepped farther back as the tingle of magic filled the air around the knight. She could feel her curse reaching out for the power and had no desire to disrupt his spell.
The wind on the island rose once more as if in defiance of his magic and then stilled abruptly. “Strange, I don’t think that was natural weather, but it didn’t feel like a weather casting either,” Valor said as he lowered his hand and turned in a slow circle surveying the dismal surroundings.
“Oh ya, the Blights are going to look at this prime piece of property and fall all over themselves to sign a treaty,” Shade said dryly as he stepped from the Spell Hawk. “Thanks for killing the wind, Valor,” he added as he dropped down from the ship and shook his head. “Are you sure you can fix this place, Jala?”
Jala remained still and silent, her violet eyes staring off into the ink-black night. Silently, Zoelyn moved to stand where she could get a better look at the High Lady and still manage to keep an eye on her comrades and the two Bendazzi that trailed Jala everywhere. It had taken time for the realization of who this woman was to sink in, but she remembered now. There was a statue of Jala at the battlefield, and she was supposed to be dead. Now she stood poised in the middle of a cursed island with every intention of rebuilding a land that had been gone for hundreds of years. Shaking her head, Zoelyn glanced down at the black rocks below her and followed the High Lady’s gaze to the sea beyond them. The whole idea seemed insane to her, but Jala seemed very confident.
“Jala?” Shade called again after a lengthy silence. He ran a hand through his auburn hair and leaned over for a better look at her face as he waited for any sign that she had heard him. Frowning, Shade turned back to look at Valor with a raised eyebrow.
“She is reading the weaves of this place,” Valor said quietly. From the expression on his face, the knight apparently thought the idea was insane as well. He looked far from pleased and his frown was deepening with every breath. “It looks to me like it is going to be far more than one night’s work. Tevonale was nearly as big as Merro and this rock we are standing on is barely bigger than your ship,” Valor muttered with a slight shake of his head.
“It was the biggest island I could find to land on,” Shade replied with a shrug.
“Stay by the ship,” Jala ordered in a voice that seemed distant. Slowly the High Lady moved farther from the spell hawk and placed her staff in front of her. She closed her eyes and one hand reached out before her as if pulling aside a curtain that only she could see. Her fingers twisted and curved down, forming patterns that seemed too complex to Zoelyn’s eyes. A faint tremor rippled through the ground below them and the air itself seemed to shiver.
The warmth of magic washed over Zoelyn, but it was nothing like Valor’s power had been. The minor weather casting Valor used had been a gentle caress. The raw power Jala was calling forth was like an avalanche crashing into her. Staggering back, Zoelyn fought against the curse, but it was futile. She could feel magic leeching into her despite her attempts to refuse it. Warmth poured through her body and the fatigue of the day vanished.
“Are you OK, Zoelyn?” Valor asked. His dark blue eyes were settled firmly on her, and she wondered how long he had been watching her.
Zoelyn nodded, then shook her head unsure how to respond. “I can’t help it. I don’t want the magic, but I am draining it,” Zoelyn explained, her words quavering as she spoke. Never before had she felt such power. The desire to simply let go of all restraint and drain until the ever present hunger vanished, was so strong she wanted to cry.