by John Kerry
Sammy walked miles and found no one. She tried her best to keep going, but as the excitement of the crabman skirmish dwindled, her adrenaline levels plummeted and fatigue threatened to crush her. The fast jog that her rescue mission had started off at quickly deteriorated into little more than a forward shuffling motion. Her leggings and t-shirt were now soaked with blood and her head was woozy.
Guilt overwhelmed her each time she rested, an occurrence that was becoming more frequent as her body edged closer to shut down and her legs seized up, making it a struggle each time she had to drag them on again.
Sammy slowed and dropped to the floor. She hunched over on knees and elbows and closed her eyes. They were only closed a moment, yet she felt herself jerk awake. She couldn’t allow herself to sleep. Think of the magus. She leant on the staff and used every sliver of willpower she could muster to hoist herself back to her feet and start working her legs. The guy’s life was in her hands, she couldn’t let him die.
She shuffled on along the riverbank. The sky was darkening, she was bleeding profusely, but she kept moving. Time drifted by. It felt like days were elapsing. On and on she went, until finally an orange glow in the distance. The faintest glimmer of light up ahead through the mushrooms, like the sun’s first rays of a new dawn.
The light spurred her on. Then she tripped. Sammy pitched forward and for a moment everything slipped out of focus and she thought she’d pass out, yet she dug deep and staggered on to the next bend in the river.
The forest opened up into a clearing.
The river continued straight through the centre, passing a small two-storey stone tower and a barn next to it. The orange glow was coming from a downstairs window.
In the semi-darkness of the clearing, she could just make out the shapes of two enormous woolly rhino, tossing their heads and grunting. Karkadann, the beasts ridden by the Marzban guard. She’d made it.
“Hey!” she called out, then collapsed.
She rolled over and stared up at the undulating purple clouds above. She heard a door unbolt, far off voices. She tried to get up again but couldn’t. Her body was spent.
The Marzban wouldn’t find her in the dark. She needed to get their attention. She closed her eyes and raised the magus’s staff, picturing the black orb in her head. The black particles were floating around inside. She watched them distractedly.
Concentrate. The particles moved quicker. She concentrated harder and they got faster still. Flying around inside the sphere, colliding and sparking. A flash of light. Then nothing, as she lost it and her mind drifted off.
She dreamt of nothing. Spiralling blackness and running footsteps.
Then light dazzled her.
“Are you okay?” someone asked.
Sammy opened her eyes to locate the speaker. It was dark and she could only make out a silhouette. A man in a turban. She closed her eyes again.
“Is she a magus?”
“It’s a girl,” a different guy said. “You don’t get girl magi.”
“There’s a magus in the forest,” Sammy mumbled, as she remembered her priorities. She tried to sit up but the pain in her stomach spiked. “We were attacked. You’ve got to save him. He’s dying …”
“Do you think she means Victa?” one said.
“Where is he?” said the other.
“Back up the river.” Sammy did her best to point. “A long way along.”
“I’ll take a karkadann. We’ll sniff him out.”
“There were crabmen,” Sammy said, then she passed out.
–TWELVE–
THE OUTPOST
Sammy opened her eyes. The candlelit room she found herself in was a simple space with purely functional architecture. A circular ceiling hung above, to the sides whitewashed walls were adorned with children’s drawings, crudely illustrated and tacked haphazardly to any available free space. They were the sort of drawings she’d have done for her mother at age five or six.
She tried to sit up. A flare of pain in her abdomen ended the attempt and she fell back against the pillow. She vaguely recalled being carried upstairs and placed in bed, but that was about all she remembered.
Sammy searched out her injury under the covers with her fingers and found her wound had been dressed. Where was everyone? She couldn’t see any doors or stairs from her reclined position, but to the left was a row of neatly made beds.
Two down was the magus. And he was breathing. Thank god they’d found him. Sammy allowed her muscles to relax. She’d found help and saved his life. She’d done something right, at least. Then she recalled leaving him to the crabmen while she made her escape up the mushroom hoods and her positive mood dwindled. If she hadn’t left him to fend for himself, he’d still have legs. In fact, if she hadn’t returned to Perseopia at all, he wouldn’t have been out in the forest looking for her. All consequences of activating the Midnight Emerald Dial again and returning. A chain reaction of events she’d set in motion because she’d been feeling unwanted and unfulfilled at home.
Now she was back and had powers, people would expect things of her. Magi had responsibilities. She might not be allowed to kick back and travel Perseopia with Mehrak. Would she have to get involved? Could they make her?
Sammy went to get up again and earned herself another stab of pain.
She lay back and watched the magus sleep, his chest slowly rising and falling under the sheets. He’d have to be on some pretty serious painkillers to sleep as peacefully as he was doing.
The mounds further down the bed, where his feet should’ve been poking up under the covers, were conspicuously absent. The poor guy would never walk again. Her fault. She stared up at the ceiling above. What would the life of a magus be without legs? Would he still be useful? Or would he get dismissed from duty and become homeless?
In a way, he’d put himself in danger coming to collect her. She’d never asked him to. He was also the one that had told her to leave him and climb away up the mushrooms. Technically, his injuries weren’t really her fault.
She lay there trying to rationalise what she’d done and what she probably should’ve done, but the dull ache in her abdomen was making it difficult to focus.
She was hungry. She hadn’t eaten in at least twenty-four hours, maybe more. She was going to get up.
Sammy tossed the covers off the bed and half-rolled, half-slid her legs to the floor so she wouldn’t have to sit up.
When she stood, the blood drained from her head and the resulting surge of dizziness almost sent her back to bed. She staggered to the windowsill and clung on, resting her forehead against the cool glass. Her body was a wreck. The muscles in her legs were trashed, and she’d gained an abundance of aches and bruises from the previous day.
She wiped the condensation away from where she’d steamed up the window. The glittering perimeter of mushroom forest stood distant from the barren clearing surrounding the tower. Everything else was dark and tinged purple.
A large black mass moved below the window. One of the karkadann. That meant at least one of the Marzban was still here.
She left the window and approached the bed with the magus in it.
He didn’t stir when she put a hand to his brow. She tapped his forehead. No reaction. He was completely out of it. At least he was breathing peacefully. How long would that last? Soon he’d wake and remember he had no feet.
She was still watching him when the sweet, fatty aroma of frying animal found her. She inhaled deeply and her stomach rumbled. The pull of food was strong. The magus wasn’t going anywhere, she’d check back on him once she’d eaten.
Sammy tucked the covers in around his neck and left him to sleep.
She found the Marzban downstairs in the kitchen. Both were wearing the purple uniforms and pink turbans she remembered as being their standard issue attire. The blue cloaks that completed their outfits hung on pegs by the front door, and on the floor their boots were lined up against the wall. One of them had his
back to her, cooking at the stove, the second was at the kitchen table cupping a steaming mug in his hands. He looked up as Sammy reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You want grated roan shrub on yours?” asked the guy at the stove.
The one at the table cleared his throat to get the other’s attention.
“Hi,” Sammy said.
The Marzban at the table got up. He looked to be early thirties, had dark eyes, and possessed a neat black beard. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Thank you,” Sammy said.
“I’m Ramin. Our cook here is Calven.”
Calven was younger, uncommonly good looking and could’ve easily been a model where Sammy came from. He had broad shoulders, a clean-shaven face, neat eyebrows, a square jaw and beautiful cheek bones. He smiled at her as he wiped his hands on the apron he wore over his uniform.
Sammy held up her hand in greeting and attempted a smile. “I’m Sammy,” she said.
Ramin scooted round the table and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit. You’ll pull your stitches. You shouldn’t be up and walking yet.”
“Thanks.” Sammy grimaced as she eased herself down into the chair. “You know, for saving me. And the magus.”
“Victa?” Calven said. “It’s horrific what happened to that poor boy.”
“You knew him?”
“A little. He spent some time here with us before he went into the forest to find a new magus that had appeared on their network. I’m guessing that was you? And those dead crabmen were your doing?”
Sammy stared down at her lap.
“A female magus,” Calven said. He shook his head. “When was the last time Perseopia had one of those? What were you doing in the forest, anyway?”
“I’m not sure. It was irresponsible of me …”
Ramin went to a chest by the sink and slid out a drawer. “You saved his life, you know?”
“Did I? If he hadn’t come to find me, he’d still have legs.”
Ramin gathered some cutlery and closed the drawer. “No one could’ve known that would happen.” He began setting the table.
Calven returned to his cooking. The room fell silent, but for the sizzling of fatty meat.
“Do you think he’ll survive?” Sammy asked after a time.
Ramin shrugged. “He’s lost a lot of blood. But he’s doing okay, considering. We’ve cleaned and bandaged him up, and he’s on some pretty serious pain killers. All we can do now is wait. He’s been unconscious since we got him back here.”
“He woke briefly when I found him,” Calven said.
“Really?” Sammy looked up. “Did he say anything?”
“He asked if you were alright. And said we had to take you to Honton Keep to Principal Hami Hootan.”
“Hami?” That meant he’d survived the crabman battle outside the fire temple. “He’s at Honton Keep?” Then it stood to reason that Mehrak was probably okay too, because Hami surely would’ve rescued him from the underground maze.
Ramin sat down opposite. “I presume Victa’s original orders were to transport you safely to the magi garrison for training. I suppose now it’ll have to be Hami taking you there.”
Sammy experienced a flurry of nerves. She leant forward and rested her forehead on the table.
“Easy,” Calven said, coming over and putting a hand on her shoulder. “You need to get your strength back. I’ll have your breakfast ready soon. You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”
“I’m fine,” Sammy said. “I’m just relieved I’m going to see Hami.”
“You know him?”
How much should she tell these guys? “Sort of,” she said. “I mean, we’ve met before.”
“Was it him that taught you how to kill crabmen?” Calven asked.
“Calven!” Ramin said.
“What?” Calven held up his hands in mock offence. “I’m only asking. There were five of them. Five! I couldn’t have taken on that many without a karkadann.”
“How will I get to Honton Keep?” Sammy asked.
“We’ll take you,” Ramin said. “It’s changeover day. We’re heading there this afternoon.”
“Time off,” Calven said, rubbing his hands together.
“Some other Marzban are swapping places with you?” Sammy asked. “To guard this tower?”
“Not the tower.” Ramin took a long draught from his mug. “The trade route into Honton Keep. It passes by here, crosses the river heading north. We protect the food shipments against crabmen and bandits. Our thirty day attachment is finally over and now it’s the turn of three other guards to come down and take our place.”
“But there are only two of you.”
“Our third man left us a few days ago,” Ramin said. “He found a boy in the forest and decided to leave his post early to take him to the Keep.”
“A boy?”
“Yeah. With yellow hair like yours. Bizarre. I’ve never seen anyone with hair like it, then two of you arrive within days of each other. You haven’t lost a brother, have you?”
Sammy shook her head. “No.”
“Anyway, Borzin took him to the Keep …”
“Borzin?” Sammy recognised the name, but couldn’t place it.
“Young guy. Only joined the Marzban this year.”
Sammy remembered. The young guard that had been burnt to death by the tall thin figure. How could she forget? She’d been unsuccessfully suppressing memories of it since the day it happened. The screams, the burning flesh.
“You’ve gone awfully pale,” Ramin said. “Perhaps you should lie down again. We can bring the food up to you.”
“The guy that found the boy was called Borzin?” Sammy asked. “Like the guard that got burnt to death a couple of years ago?”
Calven turned from the stove and the two men looked at each other quizzically.
“You must be thinking of someone else,” Ramin said at last. “Borzin only signed up this year.”
It couldn’t be the same guy, then. The Borzin she’d known had been young but he’d died over two years ago. Well before this other Borzin had started. Yet even hearing the name again set off an eerie feeling of not being in control. Of knowing there were dark creatures out there plotting and killing. Armies of crabmen searching for her.
Sammy was beginning to sweat. She needed to lie down. She made her excuses, shuffled back upstairs and climbed into bed.
–THIRTEEN–
RELIVING THE PAST
Sammy wandered aimlessly along the riverbank by the tower. She felt a load better after having eaten. Ramin had washed her clothes too, and it was surprising how good clean cloth felt against her skin. A little stiff after being dried over the stove, but she couldn’t exactly fault them for not having conditioner.
Occasionally, her stomach injury would catch her with piercing discomfort, but it didn’t happen often, and was only when she was being careless or twisting at the waist. If she was sensible, she could more or less walk without it hurting much.
Victa had shown no sign of waking. He was still out when she’d last checked on him so she’d relieved him of his lightning staff. And now that she was alone, she had the perfect opportunity to practise using it.
When she’d walked sufficiently far from the tower and was convinced that no one was looking, she fired a shot into the river.
The explosion was incredible. Vaporised water filled the air and droplets rained down on her.
Sammy massaged her ringing ears. The Marzban must have heard that. She thought she saw a silhouette at the downstairs window, but no one came running.
She brushed the water off her shoulders before it soaked through the fabric and wiped her face with her arm.
She’d roamed quite a way from the tower. From where she stood, the squat building was little more than a marshmallow with windows. Calven and Ramin clearly trusted her not to run off. Because she could quite easily escape if she wanted to. Maybe they figured
she wouldn’t bother. They weren’t keeping her prisoner. She could come and go as she pleased. And it wasn’t like they had to worry about her safety. She had defeated a group of crabmen. Although, not all of them. Technically, Victa had managed to kill two himself. But she could’ve taken out all five, given the chance. Calven the hottie had been impressed with her prowess. Sammy spun the staff around her wrist, fumbled the catch and dropped it. She checked over her shoulder that no one was looking before gingerly bending down to pick it up.
At the edge of the forest, the sparkling golden spores of the giant mushrooms fell by her feet. She held out her palm to catch some, closed her eyes and felt the connection to everything. The connection she’d never felt to anything at home.
She really could walk away. No one was watching. She had Victa’s lightning staff, clean clothes. Perseopia was her oyster.
She didn’t know where she was going, though. And the thought of spending more time alone in the Fungi Forest brought beads of cold sweat to her forehead. As far as she could see, her choices were to leave now and track down Mehrak herself, or stay and get delivered to Hami.
Hami had been a jerk. But becoming a magus, the only female magus, would be awesome.
Living with Mehrak in Golden Egg Cottage would be pretty fantastic too. Travelling all over Perseopia with Louis, no responsibilities, and every day an adventure.
Distant hoof beats interrupted Sammy from her ruminations.
Three karkadann emerged from the forest not far from the outpost. They lumbered up to the building where their Marzban climbed off, tied up the animals and entered the tower.
Calven and Ramin’s replacements from the Keep. They might have news from Hami. She’d see what they had to say for themselves and that might help her make a decision.
“Here she is,” Calven said as she entered the room. “Guys, this is Sammy.”
The three new Marzban were already at the table with drinks in their hands. Two women, one guy. They smiled and dipped their heads as Sammy entered the room. The women introduced themselves as Golnessa, a huge lady with hands like wicket keeper’s gloves, and Moneer, a lean and severe-looking woman. The guy was Yaghoub. He looked kind of weedy, and if he were in a one-on-one fight with anyone else in the room, Sammy was pretty sure he’d get his ass handed to him.