Tremors of Fury

by Sean Hinn

  Mila allowed the infuriated throng the opportunity to vent their anger. Doing so was not an easy thing. One part of her was determined; she would see this done. She would redeem herself. She would make things right, to the degree she was able. But competing emotions were at war with the notion. First, they were right not to trust her. They were right not to help her. They were right to despise her. She drowned in a crushing flood of guilt as they laid bare the ills they had endured at her hands. Second, she was not used to being berated. By anyone. A part of her was simply petulant, angry at being scoffed at, no matter the reason. She was Mila Felsin. She did not suffer insult, nor any fool who would issue it. Yet she restrained her rage; she need only look to Earl to remind herself that right action mattered, that honor mattered. Something about the man inspired her to be more, to expect – no, to demand more of herself. After a time, Sienni spoke.

  “I will help you,” she said plainly. Voices fell.

  “And what help can you offer against Sartean, girl?” asked Darl.

  She shrugged. “Not much. But I’ll do what I can.”

  Mila nodded, as did Earl. “Thank you, Sienni. That’s one.”

  “I’m not doing it for you,” Sienni hissed. “I’m doing it for Jak Tinner.”

  Mila met the woman’s eyes. “So am I,” she said.

  “Well you can count me out,” vowed Darl. “I’m sorry, but–”

  Earl stepped forward and punched the Incantor firmly in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.

  “You can do what you want, Darl. But don’t you dare say you’re sorry. If you were, you’d help.”

  Darl scrambled to his feet, sucking wind. “To Fury with you, all of you! I have a mind to tell Sartean exactly what you’re up to! This is madness!”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Earl warned.

  “And what are you going to do about it, wagon-loader? Try to punch me again and–”

  “Darl.” Mila’s voice was a blizzard.

  Darl froze.

  “You are not obligated to help. But if you side with Sartean, you side against what is right. And you side against me.”

  “And me,” said Sienni.

  “And me,” said Earl.

  No one spoke for a turn. An elderly Incantor pushed his way through the throng and stood before Mila.

  “Incantor Yano,” she addressed the man.

  He stared at Mila for a long few moments, seemingly examining her for… for something. He nodded, satisfied, and turned to the crowd.

  “Here’s how it is. I’ve served under the Master of Kerhlia for three decades. The man is a festering wound on the face of Mor. I’ve done things…” he paused. “I’ve done things I won’t recount, things I won’t even name to myself. All in the name of serving that loathsome wretch. And I’ll tell you why. Habit. It starts with one little thing, one minor betrayal, one decision to look the other way. Next thing you know, you’re doing a devil’s bidding, and there’s no way out.” Yano took a breath. “Now that doesn’t excuse anything I’ve done. But there’s never been another option, besides just defying the man and then waiting to discover what awful method he might choose to slay me, and I’m far too averse to pain to roll those bones.

  “But you,” he turned to Mila. “You can stop him. I’ve never seen one like you before. Never. You have a power I can’t even measure.” He turned back to the crowd, specifically to the Incantors present. “There aren’t a lot of chances you get in this life to choose, I mean to really choose what’s right and wrong. Most of the time you’re just shuffled along, blown about, and you end up where you end up. But this is one of those times. If any one of you, here and now, chooses not to stand against Sartean, know this: you’re responsible for every heinous thing that man does to the people of Mor from here on out. You. And you might as well go piss on Jak Tinner’s grave, his and all the rest.”

  Darl didn’t miss a beat.

  “I’ll be alive to piss on your grave after he burns you to ash,” he said. “No, wait, I’m sorry, there won’t be a grave. Because you’ll be gone. All-the-way gone. Like you were never born. To Fury with that.” He turned to the sorceress. “I won’t oppose you, Mila. But I’m heading south of the Morline until I hear you’re dead and gone. Who’s coming with me?”

  Forty-two Incantors either raised their hands, walked to stand beside Darl, or otherwise signaled they would be joining him.

  Mila nodded in resignation. She had expected no better.

  “Very well. Then I would ask something of you all,” she said.

  “You can ask,” Darl replied for the group.

  “Take these men and women with you,” she said, nodding to the laborers and farmers who were trembling in withdrawal. “Help them heal from this. You owe them than much.”

  Darl surveyed the miserable group before him. He met the eyes of the other Incantors. Forty-two heads were nodding. Darl turned to Mila.

  “Yeah, we can do that. We’ll need a supply of Flightfluid to wean the worst off.”

  “Take what you need. Destroy the rest.”

  Darl nodded. “See you in Fury, Mila Felsin.”

  “Probably,” agreed Mila.

  ~

  “He will kill us all,” said Mila when the four returned to her farmhouse office.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” said Yano. The four took seats in the small living room. “Tell me, when did you first express your gift?”

  Mila glared at the Incantor.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Fury it isn’t,” said Sienni. “Answer him.”

  Mila looked to Earl for support. He said nothing.

  “I was young. Very young. Perhaps four, maybe five.”

  Yano nodded. “What happened?”

  Mila recalled her mother’s voice, the scent of cooking broth.

  “My mother was reading to me. I knew what she was reading before she spoke the words.”

  “How? Did you see the pages?” asked Sienni. “Read through her eyes?”

  “No, I did not yet know how to read.”

  “Then how?”

  “I could just… I heard her thoughts. I started mouthing the words before she could get them out. She noticed. She…” Mila swallowed. “She stopped reading to me. She started to cry, blew out the lantern, and left me alone in my room.” Mila bit her lip. “We never spoke of it. Ever.”

  Yano and Sienni exchanged an ominous look. Yano spoke. “Your test. Who administered it?”

  “For admittance to Kehrlia? I don’t–”

  “You know what test, Mila. Your second-year test,” prodded Sienni.

  “Sartean and Incantor Pedra, same as everyone else.”

  “And you failed,” stated Yano.

  Mila nodded.

  “Except that you didn’t,” said Sienni.

  Mila looked away, then nodded.

  “What are you all on about?” asked Earl. “I don’t understand–”

  “You wouldn’t,” replied Sienni, staring at Mila in awe.

  “I was convinced there would never be another,” said Yano.

  “I wasn’t certain there had ever been one,” said Sienni. “I thought the whole exercise was just to make us all feel ineffectual.”

  “One what?” demanded Earl.

  Mila replied. “A sorcerer. Or, sorceress, as the case may be.”

  “Huh? I though that’s what you all were, all you Kerhlia types.”

  “No, we are not sorcerers, Earl. We are wizards,” said Yano.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “The difference,” said Sienni, “is that there hasn’t been a sorcerer in Mor for what, a thousand years?” she asked Yano.

  “Depends on who you ask. Some would say longer. Some might say less, but most would agree with your first instinct, Sienni. That sorcery is no more than a myth.”

  “It’s no myth,” assured Mila.

  “Alright, so what’s the big deal about sorcerers?” asked Earl. “More powe
rful, I guess?”

  Yano shook his head. “Like a river is more powerful than a raindrop.”

  Earl’s eyes widened in awe. “Really, Mila? You have that much power?”

  Mila nodded, not quite embarrassed by the question, but neither was she proud. “I… I’m a bit of a freak, I suppose.”

  “Show us,” said Sienni, her youthful blue eyes wild at the idea of witnessing such power.

  “I’d rather not,” said Mila.

  “To Fury with what you’d rather,” said Yano. “If you expect us to stick around and fight this battle with you, we’d like to know we have a chance.”

  Earl came to her defense, partially out of fear, unsure what he might see next. “If she said she’d rather not–”

  “It’s alright, Earl. They have a right to see. Come, follow me outside.”

  The three followed Mila outside and behind the farmhouse. They gathered several paces from a large, old oak tree. Mila spent a few moments examining the tree before she turned to face her companions.

  “A moment.”

  Mila closed her eyes. A moment later, a dozen birds flew from the tree, scattering in all directions. Several squirrels and other denizens of the great oak evacuated their homes within the branches.

  “Wow,” said Earl, impressed. Mila opened her eyes and beheld her enormous friend, a slight smirk forming on her lips. If you think that’s impressive, she thought, you might just swoon here in a moment. A grimace replaced the grin as Mila clenched her fists tightly. She began to shudder, a slight but noticeable agitation, as if she were shivering from the cold. She held Earl’s gaze as her green eyes began first to sparkle like living emeralds, and then to glow radiantly, bathing the three in bright jade light. Suddenly, without a word, without a sound, without even a glance behind her, Mila expressed her will in one violent gust of intention and purpose.

  The oak tree behind her exploded with a soft, barely audible puff into a fine brown-green mist of pulp and dust. The grass and dirt surrounding the tree visibly collapsed upon itself as the massive roots of the great tree disintegrated. Mila turned to the place where the tree had been. With a wave of her hand, the gently falling particles ignited in a bright, intense flash of orange flame, and the tree was no more.

  “Fury!” bellowed Earl, taking a step back from Mila in terror. “How… I mean, Fury!”

  “Please, do not look at me that way…”

  Earl turned away, aware that she felt vulnerable and not meaning to gape at the young woman.

  “That…” Sienni sought words. “That was…”

  “Terrifying,” said Yano. “Truly terrifying. Tell me, how do you feel?” he asked Mila.

  She shrugged. “No different.”

  “Not tired, not exhausted?” asked Sienni.

  “No, not really. If anything, well, maybe a bit invigorated.”

  “Invigorated?” questioned Yano. “Where did you take the power from? I felt nothing. I… I saw nothing. Did you extract it from the tree itself?”

  Mila shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. Well, not for me.”

  “Then how?” he demanded.

  Mila sighed. “I just… well, I just have to want it. I mean, really want it. It’s a force of will, I suppose, as the texts say.”

  “Mila,” asked Earl tentatively. “What if you wanted to do that… to a person? Could you do that?”

  Mila regarded the man she would wish to call friend, knowing that an honest reply would stagger him. She considered a half-truth, but decided she would not lie to this man. Not now. Not ever.

  “Earl, under the right circumstances, I am pretty sure I could do that to an army.”

  XXVII: BELGORNE

  Kari trailed Jade and her scout company towards the gate of Belgorne, avoiding the eyes of dwarves they passed along the way. She could not help but feel a sense of guilt; she would be leaving her home as her decimated people prepared for war. She was ill-suited for combat, having received only the most bare and basic training in the use of dwarven weapons and could do little to help their cause. And closing the Hammer felt like a betrayal; though she could not fight, at least she could have supported their warriors by providing a place of respite, a place to toast their fallen and drown their sorrows.

  She knew her uncle was right, however: if she stayed in Belgorne, or even in the camps outside its gates, she would likely die, and a dead Kari Flint could help no one. She considered that perhaps she could somehow serve Belgorne by delivering Lat’s axe to this Sandshingle woman, though she had her doubts–not only whether doing so would serve any useful purpose, but whether she could manage to make the trek while carrying the heavy, cumbersome weapon.

  “Open ’er up, Cap,” said Jade as the company reached the gates.

  “Can’t do that, Jade,” replied Kalder, young captain of the cadre of gate sentries on duty. “Brandaxe’s orders, none in or out ’til dawn.”

  Jade eyed the dwarf. “Brandaxe meant that order for civilians and regular army, ye fool. Not me an’ me scouts.”

  Kalder bristled. “Not the way it came down to me, Jade. Ye know I can’t let ye go without specific exception.”

  Nova stepped forward. “Blythe Kalder, if ye make me walk my sorry feet over to the barracks to wake General Brandaxe just so’s to get an order ye know damned well he’ll give, so help me I’ll shave that scraggly beard off when I get back.”

  “I’ll hold ’im down,” said Lux.

  “Can we use me dagger?” asked Jasper. “Ain’t been sharpened for a cycle. Oughta make ’im look right pretty.”

  One of Captain Kadler’s dwarves joined the conversation. “Might as well let ’em through, Cap. Ye know Captain Flint gets what he wants, and if he don’t, he’ll shave more than just that beard.”

  “Ye can bet a bag,” agreed Jade. “Flint gave us orders, and if ye stand in our way–”

  “Bah! Fine!” Kalder surrendered. “But what about her? Come over here, lass what are… Kari? Kari Flint?”

  “Hello, Blythe.”

  “What are ye doin’ with this lot? Ye be a barkeep, not a scout.”

  “She be a scout now,” said Jade. “Captain Flint put her under me.”

  Kalder was skeptical. “Not exactly dressed the part, is she?”

  “Not yet,” said Kari. “Me gear’s outside the gates.” Jade shot her a look as she spoke, but did not silence her in time.

  Kalder frowned and turned to Jade. “Ye be up to somethin’, Sergeant,” he said coolly. “Gear outside the gate, sneakin’ out with Lat’s niece… this ain’t official, is it? And don’t bother lyin’ to me, I ain’t the fool ye think.”

  Jade stepped in, close enough for Kalder to smell the alcohol on the scout’s breath. She lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “Aye. Ye be no fool, Kalder. Ye have it right. This be Captain Lat’s niece. It be the end of the world, and Kari be his last livin’ relative.” She conveyed a meaningful look to the soldier.

  Kalder glanced at the young Kari Flint, the pretty dwarven barkeep that had poured him many a mead since he came of age.

  Jade continued. “Lat’s served Belgorne nigh a century, Cap. Ain’t much to ask.”

  Kalder nodded.

  “Aye. Ain’t much. But I ain’t openin’ the gate. Follow me.”

  The company followed Kalder to the small gatehouse on the northern side of the gate. He shut the door behind them.

  “There be a postern down that hall.” Kalder pointed towards a narrow tunnel door on the far side of the room. “Take it, and ye’ll come out at the base of the draw. When ye cross the bridge, tell Sergeant Larr these words: ‘Stone fire red.’ He’ll let ye pass.”

  Kari placed a hand on the young captain’s shoulder. “Thank ye, Captain. If we live through this mess, ye’ll drink on me dime at the Hammer, sure as stone.”

  The captain blushed. “Nah, I’ll buy me own, Kari. But maybe ye’ll consent to share a mead or three with me.”

  Kari smiled. “Captain, if we live thr
ough this, I’ll share a cask with ye.”

  “I’m gonna be sick,” declared Nova.

  “Spill yer stomach outside, Private,” Jade ordered. “Let’s move.”

  ~

  The company relayed the pass phrase without incident and made their way out into the night, careful to avoid wandering into the direct light of the expansive camp that had been assembled over the past few days. The six skirted the torchlights and campfires until they reached a darkened clearing roughly a thousand paces from the drawbridge. Jade stopped abruptly, holding up a fist. She reached down to grab one of several large objects that rested beneath a large elm tree.

  “Your gear,” she said curtly, heaving a pack to Kari with one hand. The heavy parcel nearly knocked the barkeep off her feet. “Get dressed. Nova, help her. She won’t know how to fasten the ties.”

  “Aye Sarge,” Nova agreed. “C’mon, Kari, I’ll have ye lookin’ like a real scout here in no time.”

  Farris waited until the two were out of earshot. “ ’Cept she ain’t no scout.”

  Jasper nodded. “Not by a sight.”

  “She’ll learn,” Jade countered.

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s plenty bright,” said Lux. “But she ain’t got a pound o’ muscle on her. And muscle don’t come easy.”

  “She is a bit soft,” agreed Jasper. “Not that I be complainin’.”

  “Don’t let Cap hear ye say that,” hissed Jade.

  Jasper leaned against a tree beside his sergeant. “I don’t like our chances o’ seein’ Cap again, Sarge,” he said, regret evident in his tone.

  Lux shot back. “Choke on it, Jasper. Cap’ll outlive us all.”

  Jasper wasn’t so sure, but remained silent nonetheless, as did his companions.

  The company had trained and served under Latimer Flint since its formation a decade earlier. Promoted to captain after a run-in with a contingent of bandits from Mor, the middle-aged dwarf was nothing less than a legend to his scouts. He had been a sergeant at the time, and none assumed he would ever be anything else; the dwarf liked to get his hands dirty, and bore little patience for the politics of generals. But when a dozen of his comrades were set upon one night, captured for ransom as Latimer Flint had been relieving himself in the woods, his subsequent actions secured his legacy.