Rowan's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

By morning Rowan had walked far past the river's first bend. The warmth in his chest still pulled him west. The green pterodactyl rode his shoulder and hummed when he kept the right path. Then the road narrowed, and a woman stepped into it. She stopped, and Rowan felt her magic reach for him like a cold hand. She was small and old, with long silver hair and eyes the color of bruised violets. She leaned on a wooden staff wrapped in fire, water, and hidden runes. A red light burned in its head. She looked at Rowan and her face twisted with anger she did not explain. "You carry a signature," she said. "I felt it from the water. Tell me what you are before you take another step west." Rowan's hand went to the pterodactyl. "I'm no one. A traveler." "Travelers don't burn like beacons." She raised the staff. The red light flared and the ground hummed. "Where are you going? Who calls you?" Rowan knew he could not fight that staff. He also knew he could not tell her the truth. So he gave her half of it. "I'm looking Downriver." Her eyes narrowed. She stared into his face, searching for something. Then her gaze caught his eyes, and she went still. Gold. Bright gold, like nothing on a common man. Rowan saw the shock cross her face. She stepped closer, staff first. "Those eyes," she breathed. "I have seen eyes like—" Rowan turned his face away fast. He could not let her finish that thought. His magic surged, and the pterodactyl launched off his shoulder. It beat its broad wings hard in the woman's face. She swung the staff, and fire licked the air where the creature had been. In that half-second, Rowan ran. He crashed off the road, through brush, downhill toward the water. Behind him the staff cracked and lightning split a tree. He did not look back. He ran until his legs failed and the sound of her faded. He fell against a rock beside a smaller stream. The pterodactyl dropped beside him, panting. Rowan pressed his palm to his hammering chest. She had almost known him. His eyes had almost given him away. He reached into his coat. His fingers found a pair of smoked glass spectacles he had carried since boyhood, never worn. He had always thought them useless. Now he understood. He slid them on. The world dimmed to gray, but his gold eyes vanished behind dark lenses. "No one sees them now," he told the pterodactyl. The creature nudged his cheek. The warmth in Rowan's chest still tugged west, past the woman, past the fire. She was hunting the river. So was he. He stood, hidden behind glass, and turned downstream. He would reach his destination before she reached him.