Late-morning sunlight glinted off the glass panes of the hothouse. Leif stopped Rusalka before drawing too close. No need to tip anyone off that they were nearby. The long, thin structure sat in the middle of an open clearing along with a small wooden building. Forest surrounded the complex. This was the first of the three they planned to check on their return to Owen’s ex-headquarters.
From this angle, it seemed as if the place was deserted. No greenery stained the inside of the glass house and, after an hour of observation, no one appeared.
Devlen returned from doing a reconnaissance. “Nothing. All’s quiet.”
“Suspiciously quiet?” Leif asked.
“No. Abandoned quiet.”
They ventured closer. Leif tasted the wind, seeking the flavors of past intentions. He drew in deep breaths, sensing the echoes of emotions. The trees rustled and the dry grass crackled under Rusalka’s hooves. Otherwise, all remained undisturbed.
Peering through the glass of the house, Leif confirmed that nothing grew inside. A crate filled with an assortment of objects sat in the center.
“Perhaps there is information in the box,” Devlen said next to him. He strode to the entrance.
Leif followed. When Devlen opened the door, stale musty air puffed out. They entered.
“Looks like they yanked the plants in a hurry,” Leif said. He bent to grab a handful of soil, testing the moisture. He freed a root that had been left behind. It was brittle. “It’s been about two weeks since this place was in use.”
“That fits the timeline,” Devlen said. He knelt next to the crate.
“There’s...something...off.” Leif wiped the dirt from his hands.
Devlen paused. “Off?”
“I can’t pinpoint it. It’s...subtle.” Leif joined his brother-in-law. “Is there anything in there of value?”
Devlen reached into the box.
“Malice,” Leif said. “That’s what’s off. The air is tainted with malice.”
“Considering Owen was in here, I am not surprised.” Devlen pulled a broken shovel and tossed it aside. He dumped the rest of the contents—mostly old gardening tools.
“Let’s check the other building,” Leif said, exiting the glass house.
The oversize wooden barn door gaped open.
Leif halted. “The air reeks of death. And there’s nothing subtle about that.”
“I smell it, too.”
They exchanged a glance. Leif yanked his machete from his belt and Devlen brandished his scimitar. Devlen eased the door wider and signaled him. Leif held his breath and crept inside with the Sandseed right behind. Dim sunlight trickled through the dusty windows. The large single room contained furniture and gardening supplies and a dead body.
Leif cursed aloud. Then he gagged on the rotten stench. “Check.” He motioned to search the room. “Quick.” Covering his nose with his hand, he took the right side while Devlen went left.
Not much to see. An old frayed couch, a couple chairs and a desk. Although the stack of files piled on top might be interesting. Leif sheathed his machete. He opened the first file.
A loud pop sounded. The sharp, acrid smell of malice sliced right through death’s foul odor. Inside the file was a single piece of paper.
“Run,” Leif yelled, just as a whoosh vibrated through the air.
The barn’s walls ignited. Flames ripped up the sides, surrounding them.
7
YELENA
One look at Valek’s hard expression and I braced for bad news. He didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately. “Are you certain it was Owen and the others?” I asked Valek. “It was dark and the boy is very young.” The thought of Owen in Ixia coiled like a snake in the pit of my stomach.
Onora and I had been relaxing by the campfire when Valek and Janco returned from searching for the tunnel. They’d found it, but also learned one of the teen miners had reported spotting three strangers that had appeared right out of thin air the same night his camp’s food stores had been raided.
“It’s not a hundred percent, but it makes the most sense,” Valek said, sitting next to me. He held his hands close to the fire, warming them.
“Why did Lewin see them at all?” Janco plopped down between me and Onora. “That Rika chick should be hiding them behind an illusion all the time. That’s what I’d do if I were her.”
“It’s difficult to maintain an illusion when the subject is in motion,” I explained. “The magician has to constantly adjust it to match the surroundings. It’s exhausting. While something static, like covering the mouth of the cave with an illusionary rockfall, is much easier.”
“But what keeps it going?” Onora placed the cook pot on the fire, reheating the beef stew the cook from the miner’s camp brought over for supper. “Once the magician leaves, shouldn’t the illusion dissipate?”
“In most cases, the illusion disappears,” I said. “However, some magicians can loop the magic back to the power blanket. This loop keeps the illusion intact by drawing power from the source. Booby traps work in a similar fashion, except when one is triggered, it connects to the source to fuel the trap and then disintegrates. There’s no loop.”