Free The Unmaking by Catherine Egan Page A

a potion. Eliza had expected to continue with forging spells this time around but suddenly Swarn had decided to teach her to use these weapons. Eliza was thrilled – at first. Now the day was only half-over and she was worn out. It was the most difficult thing they had done yet, by far, and she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps she was not ready for it.
    After piercing balls of flame with arrows and spears, they went on to dueling with enchanted swords. Eliza’s sword had a will of its own and she had to impose her will over it. Tired as she was, she found the sword controlled her more than she it and that she was darting and dodging to accommodate its movements. Swarn was most dissatisfied and lectured her about balance. When the sun was sinking down towards the horizon and the red clouds had faded to dark grey, they turned and trudged back to the hut.
    They had left Charlie sleeping by the fire that morning but he was gone now. Though he didn’t stray far, he tended to stay out of Swarn’s way. Indirectly, he was the cause of the quarrel between Swarn’s sister Audra and the Sorceress Nia that had ended with Audra being killed more than half a century ago. Though he could hardly be blamed for it, he knew well enough that Swarn didn’t like the sight of him. Swarn told Eliza every time that she would happily send a dragon to meet her at the Crossing but the truth was Eliza liked to have her friend with her. The dragons were loyal only to Swarn. She had profound respect for Swarn but the witch had three times come close to killing Eliza early on in their relationship. Eliza felt better knowing Charlie was nearby.
    It was part of Swarn’s peculiar regimen of training that Eliza became a sort of servant when she stayed there. She swept the earth floor of the hut, maintained the enchantments on the fire, walked an hour and back every morning to the spring for fresh water, cooked their meals and rinsed the dishes. Now Eliza chopped marsh vegetables on a rough, worn strip of wood while Swarn sat, back straight and legs crossed, hands on her knees, staring into the green fire in the hearth at the centre of the room. A large black cauldron hung over the fire, rigged from the ceiling by chains. Eliza winched it up close to the ceiling so it was out of the way and set up a short iron stand for the frying pan. The frying pan was black and battered but still serviceable. Eliza stirred the vegetables and herbs together with some oil and a handful of dried marsh minnows in the pan. The mixture began to sizzle.
    “How is your mother?” asked Swarn. She was not looking at Eliza.
    “Same as usual, I spec,” said Eliza carefully. When Swarn did not reply, she added, “You should come visit her sometime, aye.”
    “No,” said Swarn, her voice harsh.
    “You’d be welcome,” said Eliza.
    “No,” Swarn said again, nearly whispering this time. “I could not bear it.”
    “Praps it’s easier for me, because I dinnay remember her the way she was before,” said Eliza.
    Swarn cut her off. “Tomorrow we will practice deflecting barriers.”
    “Barriers?” Eliza was startled. “What for?”
    Swarn said nothing in reply to this.
    “My dagger can cut through barriers,” said Eliza. “Why do I need to deflect them?”
    “Suppose you were held by a barrier that prevented you from moving your arms,” said Swarn crisply. “How would you reach your dagger?”
    Eliza paused and let this sink in. She could not think why Swarn would suggest such a thing. First and most obviously, she was not ready. It took Magic far greater than what she could yet perform to deflect the spell of another. But stranger than that, barriers were Mancer Magic, and the Mancers were Eliza’s sworn protectors.
    “Do you really think the Mancers are some kind of threat to me?” she asked at last. She asked this not out of concern, but out of disbelief. Eliza felt sure Swarn was doing the Mancers a great injustice if she believed they might hurt their