Second Earth by Cami Murdock Jensen

Author:Cami Murdock Jensen [Jensen, Cami Murdock]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Value Publishing LLC

19

Can We Please Get Back on Track?

I shut my eyes and tried to soak in as much of the Fulcrum as possible. I really needed a good night’s sleep in the warm heart of space, but that wasn’t going to happen right now. The best I could do is relax for a few minutes as the Jent Path magically bypassed time and distance to deliver me to First Earth.

Sunset was my favorite time of day on First Earth. The sunset elongated as I chased it around the globe, hurtling over the ocean and past a dense evergreen forest. As the trees thinned and winding roads converged, I knew Tirinad neared. The golden hour of the setting sun painted the silvery-gray, domed buildings a rosy pink, and in the center, high above the city, the caramel-colored, granite spires of King Odric’s castle glowed with an amber light. I enjoyed the view until the last second.

I descended through the roof to the landing pad. Dozens of people, talking loudly, filled the spacious throne room.

As soon as I solidified, someone called out, “It’s Lady Agnes!”

Everyone stopped talking and turned toward me. Odric immediately released the curtain, and without the golden magic shining around me, I had a clearer view. Not all of the people were human. Four huge centaurs, hooves clopping on the tiles, signaled their respect by touching their right hands to their left shoulders. I guess Dominath’s sculptures were true depictions. Tiny pixies with transparent wings flew in close, and several tall, graceful beings with long, white hair and skin as brown as tree bark nodded. Circles of light framing the images of dragons floated near the throne. It must have been how the dragons communicated since they were too big to fit in our buildings. I thought I even saw a Siamese cat slip between the centaur’s hooves. Could it be Phar Sekmet?

“Thank the Fulcrum! Agnes!” Nemantia cried out.

She and Sempira forged a path to me through the crowd. Nemantia grabbed me and squeezed me tight. My shoulder revolted with a stab of sharp pain.

“Ow!” I blurted.

“Oh,” she backed away, her hands covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I was just so happy to see you.”

“It wasn’t you,” I assured her. “My shoulder was dislocated earlier.”

“The arch mage is wounded,” barked King Odric to the crowd.

Twenty-seven different streams of magic, each glittering with its own unique pattern, flowed through the crowds into my shoulder. In a heartbeat, the strained tendons mended and the throbbing disappeared. Then the magic explored me from my head to my toes, searching for more injuries. Suelta’s bite on my calf closed up, my neuropathy eased, my exhaustion lifted—even the scab on my arm from Manila healed.

“Wow,” I said. “Thank you. That feels so much better.”

“Your body has been under an extreme amount of stress,” said an older wizard with dark skin and brown eyes. “Both physical and emotional. Your internal chemistry is out of balance.”

“I’m sure it is,” I agreed.

“Lord Chevlin,” introduced King Odric, nodding at the wizard.

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