Red Jack

by Alex Linwood

  “I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Peter said, irritated at her belligerence. “You’re coming back with me.”

  “Why? Deyelna wanted to get rid of me. I’m gone. Why drag me back?”

  “Because you ruined her plans. Now she’s angry,” Peter said with a grimace. “She’s going to take it out of your hide.”

  “She is, or is her little errand boy going to do it for her?” Portia asked, angry at Peter’s blind obedience to Deyelna.

  “Enough!” he said. He looked around the square to see if anyone was watching. A woman and her daughter had been staring but quickly looked away and walked down the street away from them when Peter focused his gaze on them. There was no one else in the square. “I should be at home reading. Instead, I’m sent on this stupid task of retrieving you. I am already fed up. Don’t make it worse.”

  Portia just got angrier. Peter was worried about his reading? And all this for Deyelna, with her insatiable appetite for control? Portia summoned all her energy. She poured it into creating a blinding field of light on her skin, imitating Mark’s magic. Peter yelped, turned away from her, and fell, letting go of her arm. Portia ran down the street.

  She passed the far corner of the square and turned onto the road. Peter scrambled to his feet behind her. She turned and saw two of him; he was using his magic. She cursed and veered left then right, to avoid her pursuers.

  The Peters gained on her. She felt her stomach complain. The food in it jostled with each step. She felt nauseous. She kept running, hoping to lose the Peters before she was sick.

  One of them came up on her left side while the second was falling behind. Desperate, she hoped the Peter to her left was the duplicate—one that he could send running faster than he could in real life. An abandoned wagon wheel in the road forced her to veer towards it instead of right. If it was the duplicate Peter, she should be able to run right through it.

  But it was the real Peter. They collided and tumbled to the ground.

  Portia rolled to her back, her feet up defensively. Peter tried to pin her down, but she was too fast and kicked him in the groin with all her strength. He grunted, doubled over. She kicked him in the chest, knocking him over to lay in the road, moaning. She swung her bag—which still had half a dozen apples in it—at his head as hard as she could. His moan silenced.

  She stood, panting, waiting for him to get up, but he never did. Coming closer, she could see he was breathing, but he was out cold.

  She leaned over him and pulled out her dagger.

  Chapter 7

  Peter’s breathing was even. His pale skin had a sheen of sweat on it. She was so close she could smell the scent of leather and the musk he always used.

  She held her dagger over his chest, ready to plunge it into his heart. Her arms trembled. She had never killed anybody. She had never even really hurt anybody. A shiver of revulsion passed up her spine and across her skull as she thought of the blade slicing through his flesh and landing deep in his heart. Bile rose in her throat.

  She fought with herself for a minute, then threw her dagger to the side with a curse. It was probably a mistake, but she would not start butchering people now. She could not do it.

  But she needed to get away from him. On impulse, she raised her right foot and slammed it down on his big toe. She heard the crunch of a bone breaking, but Peter didn’t move. Maybe that would slow him down enough.

  She retrieved her dagger and put it back into its sheath. Looking around the square, she didn’t see anyone. She thought she saw the curtain of the clothier fall shut but told herself it was just her imagination. Portia jogged onto the road to Coverack, leaving Peter in the dust behind her.

  Her jogging turned into walking soon after. She spent the next several hours trudging along the road, continually checking behind her to see if Peter was coming. She wondered if that was worse than killing him would have been. Then she shook her head no. She would never find a place in this kingdom if she became a murderer.

  Or maybe she was just weak and just couldn’t do what needed to be done. She refused to believe that.

  The road was quiet. She wished there was some traffic, even if it brought the risk of Peter hitching a ride. Being alone felt unfamiliar. In the city, there were always other people about. Voices were a constant presence in her life until now, even if heard through a wall. Here, there was nothing but the sound of crickets and birds from the nearby forest. Thankfully, the road didn’t run directly through the forest—it was dark and foreboding. It was bad enough that the road ran along the forest the entire way. Every time she checked for Peter, she also checked the trees, but for what, she didn’t know.

  The sun was glaring in her eyes as it drew closer to the horizon. She didn’t want to be on the road alone after dark. Nor did she really want to be in the forest. She decided the edge of the forest would be safer than venturing too far in, and still safer than being visible from the road.

  Scanning the dark wood, she noticed a group of five trees up ahead. They appeared taller than the rest but were heavily foliaged, especially in the upper branches. It would be hard for anyone to see her there from the road. They would’ve had to been looking for her, and even then, would most likely miss her.

  She looked up the tallest of the five trees. It was the one furthest from the road. Her stomach grew queasy at the height. She told herself to pretend it was a warehouse building with a nice ladder up the side, and a safe flat roof waiting for her on top. She jumped to grab the lowest branch and pulled herself up. She climbed halfway up the tree, going from branch to branch until there was an unusually large gap between the branches which stopped her from climbing higher. Looking around below her and towards the road, Portia decided she wasn’t high enough. She could easily see the road, which meant anyone on the road could easily see her.

  Looking up the tree again, she saw a thick branch ten feet above her. She reached for where she normally had her rope, but it was not there. She had lost the last of it that night in the warehouse with Mark. Gazing at the rough bark under her fingers, she wished it was a ladder up the tree. She imagined the ladder rungs spaced evenly a foot apart going up the tree. She felt a tingle in her neck and in her fingertips. Light flickered on the edge of her vision from her hands onto the tree. As she watched, the bark pushed out from the tree under her into the shape of a ladder leading up. The tree groaned, and the bark creaked, but nothing broke off or gave way. Portia had never seen anything like this before. Unconsciously she held her breath until she realized she was getting dizzy and then gasped in some air. The growth of the tree had slowed when she had stopped breathing. It picked up its pace once again, then halted, leaving a wood ladder leading up ten feet to the next branches. It amazed Portia. She also felt a little guilty—she hoped she hadn’t hurt the tree.

  Cautiously, she gripped the first rung on the wood ladder and pulled. It held fast. She tested the next rung with her other hand and found the same result. Gingerly, she pulled herself up and put her right foot on the lowest rung. Slowly, she put her weight on it. It did not give. She hopped on it, trying to make it break or at least seeing how much force it would take to make a break, but again it did not give way. She looked up one last time and made a leap of faith. She scrambled up the rest of the ladder as fast as she could, counting on it being the same as the bottom rung she had already tested. Reaching the branches above the bare spot on the tree, she climbed into them with a sense of relief. She never heard of magic working like that on a living thing before.

  She found a crook in the branches where two branches grew away from the tree nearly parallel to each other, leaving a nest-like place for her to sit. She perched there, leaning against the main trunk. She wished she had some rope to tie herself in. She wrapped her bag strap around herself and the trunk. It helped but would not be enough to keep her from falling if she relaxed into a deep sleep. And she needed sleep more than anything else.

  Looking at the surrounding branches, she imagined them com
ing in to give her a hug. She felt the familiar tingle down the back of her spine. Soon after, the branches leaned in towards her, gingerly at first, then picking up speed. In a moment, the branches wrapped her in a cocoon of thin branches and leaves, wrapping around her body and only leaving her face exposed. She let herself relax slowly, bit by bit, testing her makeshift bed. It felt solid. She even shook it with her arms and legs, rattling the leaves and sending a few falling to the ground. It did not give. She exhaled with relief. She could sleep.

  The air cooled as the sun set. Portia shivered. She willed the branches to tuck even closer to her body, which they quickly obliged. The leaves on the branches holding her tight insulated her enough to stop her shivering. She closed her eyes.

  The world rumbled and shook. A loud keening rang out in the night. Slowly, a crack worked its way from the ground, zigzagging up through the sky and across the heavens above. The rumbling and shaking increased in intensity, moving the trees back and forth to the point of breaking. The keening noise rose in pitch. Slowly, the halves of the heavens pulled apart in jerks and starts until a black void, darker than the darkest patch of the night sky, filled the space between the two halves of heaven. It was empty of everything—of stars, of glowing light, of anything in nature.

  Portia started awake with a jerk. Her heart was racing. She gripped the tree tightly until she felt her heart slow, until her pulse no longer throbbed in her neck.

  The forest was quiet around her. She held her breath until she heard the faint cry of an owl. Slowly, she could make out other forest noises. She felt reassured that everything was all right. If something was coming, surely the animals in the woods would know.

  The sun was rising in the east, tinging the sky pink. Rather than try to get more sleep, she thought it would be best to get an early start on the road. She pulled out an apple and ate it, waiting for the sun to chase away more of the darkness. Willing the branches back to their natural place, she released herself and then climbed down the tree.

  When she got to the bottom, she looked up at the ladder she had created. She put a palm on the trunk, closed her eyes, and told it, Thank you for your help. I’m sorry if it hurt . She felt bad for how she had changed it. Portia’s hand tingled where it touched the tree. She opened her eyes, looked up, and gasped—the ladder slowly receded back into the tree, leaving not a single mark on the trunk. She backed away, not sure what was going on. She wished at that moment John was still alive. He’d been the closest thing to a teacher she had ever had. If it wasn’t for him, she never would have survived her first years as an orphan in Valencia.

  She returned to the road, turning towards Coverack. After an hour, the creak of wagon wheels behind her alerted her to traffic on the road. She turned and saw a beautiful carriage with the same insignia as the royal ship in the harbor of Valencia. She backed away from the road at the behest of the driver who waved her back with his whip. He looked imperious and didn’t turn towards her as they drove by, his head held high and straightforward. The carriage was beautiful, with gold paint and curving woodwork. It was fully enclosed, the windows covered with curtains. Portia couldn’t see who was inside. She watched it go by in awe. Four guards on horseback followed closely, holding long pikes in readiness, swords strapped to their sides.

  She followed, watching the carriage disappear in the distance ahead of her. Hopefully, this meant she wasn’t far from the city. She should have asked how far Coverack was from Holne. Her stomach rumbled, making her wonder if she shouldn’t have tried to catch a rabbit or something from the forest last night.

  Thoughts of food consumed her. She stared at the ground, thinking of rabbit stew when a voice startled her from her daydreams.

  “Well, isn’t that a pretty one?” A man stood in the road ahead of her. Portia was furious at herself for not paying attention. She should have been looking around. The man had dirty breeches and even dirtier hair. He was missing a front tooth. She could tell because he gave her a leering smile while he looked her up and down, his arms crossed.

  “That she is, that she is,” a voice came from behind her. Portia whirled around to see another man, equally disgusting, standing behind her. She backed away from the road, trying to see both men at once instead of being trapped between them.

  “Now, now… no need to be afraid, sweetie,” the first man said, breathing heavily and walking towards her. “We’ve just been a little robbed this morning with only the royal carriage coming through and more guards than we want to mess with. But it’s all better now. You’ve come here. And now we can party.” He gave her a sickly smile she feared was meant to reassure her. It did not.

  The second man laughed at that. “Party.” He had a leering grin to match the first man. Portia did not want to know what sort of party they had in mind. She used Mark’s magic to create bright lights on her skin, but she wasn’t close enough to truly blind them, only to knock out their vision for a few minutes. When they shut their eyes and hissed, she bolted away around the first man to run further down the road then veered off into the forest to hide behind a tree. She created a duplicate of herself and sent it down the road towards Coverack. She thought better, and reversed the duplicate’s course, sending it back down the road from the way she had come, past the men and back towards Holne. She did not want these men running in the same direction she was going.

  She stopped the duplicate a bit down the road by having it trip and fall. It was still in view of the men. Her timing was perfect. By the time the duplicate stood again, the men’s vision cleared, and they spied it. She sent the duplicate running down the road again, leading both men away from her. When they were out of sight, she walked back on the road towards Coverack, keeping further to the side this time. She wanted to have a clear escape path to the forest in case any other bandits were out and about. It was exhausting, but she concentrated on keeping the duplicate running behind her, all the while looking out around herself and walking forward. After half an hour, she figured they were far enough away—she let go of the magic holding the duplicate in existence and breathed out a tired sigh.

  Soon after, the city of Coverack appeared in the distance. It was a jewel of red and white stone buildings rising from the fields. It sat next to the mountains to the south. Beyond it, she could see the blue of the sea. A dark castle with many tall towers sat at the far side. The city was as beautiful as Holne but twenty times its size, if not more. The main gate was three times the width of the main gate for Valencia and twice as tall. A dozen guards patrolled outside it, plus additional guards walked in the inner courtyard. This was a rich city. Even the peasants who walked in and out of the gates looked as well-to-do as the merchants in Valencia. Portia was in awe.

  Portia got in line to enter the city. She didn’t have any merchandise or obvious reason to enter the city. She scanned her brain, trying to come up with a story, but was drawing a blank. She walked closely behind a wagon full of pumpkins, hoping the guard would mistake her for being part of the farmer’s group. To her surprise, the guard barely looked at her. He barely looked at anybody in fact, just waved everyone through. She wondered about that. How could they be so sure the people walking through the gates were good for the city? Did they have security measures she didn’t know about?

  Entering the courtyard just inside the gate, Portia looked around. She had no idea where the tests were held for the Magic Academy or how to sign up for them. She needed more information. She spied a pastry stall on the far side of the square and made her way over to it. The pastry seller didn’t even try to shortchange her. This was definitely a different town than Valencia.

  Buying her breakfast, she turned to watch the people in the courtyard and picked out conversing groups she might go and overhear. She spied a group of young men unloading produce near a set of stopped carriages from whence travelers unloaded—their cloaks and bags gave away that they had come from a great distance. It seemed likely that some of them were coming here for the test for the Magic Academy. Portia mad
e her way over to the travelers. She wanted to learn more. She leaned against a tree nearby and tried to be invisible as she finished the last of her pastry.

  “Made it just in time,” one young woman said, adjusting her cloak after stepping down from a carriage. “They need to do something about those bandits.”

  “Agreed,” another young woman said. This young woman accepted a bag from the carriage footman and looked around the square. She spied the young men unloading produce behind her and gave them a shy smile.

  “Stop,” whined the first young woman. “We are here for magic, that’s all.” The second young woman gave her an irritated look .

  A matron exited the carriage. She scowled when she saw the young men nearby and the distracted looks of her charges. She waved at the girls to grab their bags and ushered them towards a building nearby with a hanging sign of a rooster over its doorway. Portia guessed it was an inn. The matron scolded her charges. “Focus, girls. Do not expect another chance at this—it cost your parents a pretty penny to get you here for this one. They won’t have the coin for another try in six months.”

  Portia continued around the square listening to other conversations. It turned out that the test started tomorrow, and the town was filling with applicants eager to prove their case that they belonged at the Academy. All the applicants looked so young—younger than her, and younger than Mark even. She wondered if there was an age requirement. But she couldn’t worry about that now. She had no other plans. She couldn’t go back to Valencia, not with Deyelna and the rest of the city’s gangs after her.

  Since the tests started tomorrow, Portia hoped she would still have time to take the test. No one had spoken of how they had gotten their spot, but she did learn where the Magic Academy was. It was up the hill, a third of the way to the castle. She went there to plead her case.