Forsworn: A Powder Mage Short Story

by Brian McClellan

  Nikslaus rapped on the door as if to say goodbye, and gave her and grandfather each a nod. He stepped away.

  Erika let herself sink against the upholstered seats of grandfather’s carriage and sigh in relief. Grandfather rolled his eyes at her, and she stuck out her tongue at him, suddenly giddy that they would finally be away.

  “My lord,” Nikslaus said, stepping back to the window and addressing grandfather.

  Erika leapt half way out of her seat, but Nikslaus didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes?”

  “Two of my men were killed on the road not more than six miles from here,” Nikslaus said. “We found the bodies just this morning.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Lord Leora said. “Very unfortunate.”

  “Indeed.” Nikslaus looked toward Erika. “I can’t imagine what could have happened.”

  “Do you think it was the powder mage?” Erika asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  She could feel the blood thumping in her ears. “Where did it happen?”

  “To the southeast.”

  Erika put her hand to her chest. “That’s the king’s highway! Santiole and I were just hunting down there yesterday. Could it have been bandits?” She dabbed at her forehead. “Pit, we were just there. We could have been attacked!”

  Nikslaus seemed taken aback. “Well. I’m glad it was my men, and not you and your bodyguard.”

  “That’s...that’s just horrible. Grandfather, I demand you send someone down there to root them out.”

  Grandfather pursed his lips. “I’ll talk with Santiole. We can’t have bandits operating in my forest. I’ll see that the culprits are brought to justice.”

  “Very well,” Nikslaus said slowly. “Thank you for that.” He eyed Erika, then said, “I do hope you have a safe journey.”

  Nikslaus left, and they were soon heading north into the mountain roads that would take them through the lowest passes to Norport.

  Erika watched the forest roll by, the trees naked but for the last stubborn leaves clinging to bare branches, the only sound the creak of the carriage wheels and the clop of their small escort.

  “You played a dangerous game there,” grandfather said when they were some ways from the manor. “Admitting that you had been hunting in the area.”

  Erika nodded. If grandfather had disapproved, he would have spoken up earlier.

  “But well done,” he said. “You threw him off balance. Be careful with Nikslaus. He’s young, and as Privileged go he’s not actually very powerful, but he makes up for it with cunning. Don’t provoke him into doing something stupid.”

  “Isn’t that what I should be doing?”

  “Not if that stupid thing is trying to kill you. Because mark my words: he will succeed. You can look into his eyes and see a man who doesn’t balk at murder.” Grandfather shrugged. “After all. This is Kez. And he’s a duke.”

  “So are you.”

  “Have I balked at murder?”

  Erika tilted her head, taken aback. “I...don’t know.”

  “I may be grandfather to you, my dear, but...well, men have learned to fear me. And they will learn to fear you, by the time you inherit my title and lands.”

  Erika watched her grandfather—the wizened old man who used to bring her flowers and berries from his gardens—and wondered just of what he was capable. Was he as ruthless as Nikslaus? Had he learned to hide it better? Would she be that ruthless some day? The question bothered her all through the afternoon and into the evening to when they stopped to change horses before continuing on through the night.

  They were joined the next morning by Santiole and Norrine. Erika couldn’t help but give a sigh of relief at the sight of the girl. Norrine wore an old pair of Erika’s riding boots and a white chemise with green trim under a long fox fur jacket. She also wore a scarf to cover the brand on her neck.

  Their new additions brought the company up to seven. Lord Leora made it clear he did not like the idea of so many people with knowledge of the girl they were smuggling out of the country, but also that he trusted his two men-at-arms and the driver implicitly. Each had been with him longer than Erika had been alive.

  They were in Norport just four days later. Santiole once again disappeared with Norrine, taking her to an inn where they could stay inconspicuously, and Erika proceeded to the hotel with her grandfather. Erika was able to get her first good night’s sleep in almost a week, and she woke up in the morning with a lightness to her step and the smell of fish and the damp odor of the Adsea in her nostrils.

  She was almost there. Grandfather’s driver had booked her passage on a schooner heading to Adopest. Santiole would book herself and Norrine passage on the same schooner and in just two days they would be far beyond the reach of the Kez Longdogs. Norrine would be gone when Erika returned to Kez in a few months, and there would be no evidence to tie her to the fugitive powder mage. She couldn’t believe they had done it.

  Grandfather asked her to join him for breakfast in the hotel dining room. Only one other pair dined in the large room, which suited Erika fine. They were seated and their breakfast of partridge eggs, toast, and calf liver was brought out to them just a few minutes later. Erika set into the meal, feeling like she hadn’t eaten in months. Grandfather lifted his fork and pointed it to the doorway behind Erika. “Your friend is here,” he said, his voice flat.

  “My friend? Who?”

  Erika turned in her seat. Several men stood speaking with the hotel owner in the grand hall. They wore the tan uniforms with green trim of Kez soldiers, with white sashes across their chests. Another member of the group wore a black suit and a pair of runed Privileged gloves.

  Duke Nikslaus.

  Erika felt the blood drain from her face and turned to face her breakfast. She stared at her plate for several moments, trying to control her breathing. He was here. And if he was here, it meant he was here for them. Within moments he and his Longdogs would come through the door and arrest her and grandfather.

  She had brought grandfather in on this. It was all her fault. Maybe she could convince them he had nothing to do with it?

  “Eat up,” grandfather said. “You’ll need your strength.” He was already sipping at his morning tea.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Eat,” he urged again.

  “My lady! My Lord Leora! How good to see you both again!” Nikslaus entered the room and came around the side of the table. Grandfather stood to shake the duke’s hand, and Erika allowed him to kiss the back of hers.

  Surely he could hear her heart pounding away. Surely the trap would spring any moment.

  “What brings you to Norport?” Erika asked, her voice sounding faint even to her.

  “Still hunting, still hunting,” Nikslaus made a motion like a wheel going around and fell into one of the chairs. “We have to range all over when we’re hunting like this. You know how it is. A fugitive could be anywhere.”

  “Surely not here,” Erika said.

  “We don’t know. I’ve sent men in every direction, of course.”

  “Of course,” she echoed, waiting for the other shoe to fall. Was he toying with her?

  “When I discovered you were here, I thought I’d come and give you the courtesy of telling you myself.”

  “Oh?” Erika asked. She looked toward grandfather, but the old man sipped his tea and took a bite of his toast as if this conversation were perfectly ordinary.

  Nikslaus went on. “I’ve had to close the port. I’m so sorry. I know you were returning to Adro today. But with the powder mage still loose I have to take every precaution.”

  Erika set her fork beside her plate so that he wouldn’t see how it trembled. “Oh. I see. How long will the port be closed?”

  “A week. Maybe two? A month at the longest, I’m sure. I’ve asked for reinforcements and we’re going to make a thorough search of the city before I can allow the port to open again.”

  “That’ll be very poor for trade on the Adsea,”
grandfather said after a bite of poached eggs. “The Adrans won’t be happy.”

  “The king is worried not a whit as to the happiness of Adro when it concerns these damned powder mages. No offense, my lady,” Nikslaus lay a hand gently on Erika’s arm. “I know you’re half Adran yourself, but you must understand.”

  And a powder mage. She swallowed hard. “Certainly, my lord.”

  “I do have good news,” Nikslaus said. “I’ve just been sent something wonderful by the men at the royal armory. Duglas!”

  The tall master mage hunter entered the room a moment later, wearing one of the green on tan uniforms with his long gray hair tied back and his mustache gleaming with wax. He had a long package slung over one shoulder, wrapped in oil cloth. At a gesture from Nikslaus, he thumped it on the table. Erika jumped as a plate shattered beneath it. Duglas didn’t seem to notice.

  “It’s called an air musket,” Nikslaus said, unwrapping the oil cloth and lifting the item from the table. It looked much like a regular musket with a long barrel, but the wooden stock was wider than a musket’s and the firing mechanism quite unlike a flintlock. He pointed to the flared stock and said, “It fires bullets using compressed air from this cylinder. Good for several shots. The range is a little less than a flintlock, but it’s a magnificent weapon.”

  “Fascinating,” grandfather muttered, taking his glasses from his breast pocket and leaning toward Nikslaus.

  “We’ll be using these exclusively to hunt powder mages from now on,” Nikslaus said, locking eyes with Erika as he spoke. “No more risking a powder mage getting the better of us with their abominable sorcery.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Erika wanted to spit in the man’s face.

  “Perhaps I could have one made for you, my lady. Then you’ll know the joy of shooting.”

  Erika covered her face as if she were blushing. “You’re too kind.”

  “It’s the least I could do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go deal with the mayor. He’s most upset about me closing the port.”

  Nikslaus was gone a moment later and Erika was left staring at her plate. He had ordered reinforcements. How many was that? A hundred? A thousand? Once they had reinforcements they would search the entire city. They would find Norrine in Santiole’s care, and then they would come for Erika.

  “I have to leave,” she said.

  Grandfather tapped his fork gently on his plate. “Oh?”

  “I’ll take the high pass back over the mountains and make for Budwiel.” It was the closest Adran city by land. It would take over a week to get there, but she had no choice. “Nikslaus doesn’t have many men. He can’t be watching all the city gates. If I leave now, I can get ahead of him before he thinks to close the passes.”

  “I suppose you’ll want my carriage for that?” grandfather asked.

  “Please,” she leaned close to him, offering her broadest smile.

  “You’re going to be a terror for whatever man you marry. All right. I’ll send you with Dominik and Tirel. And Santiole, of course. I’ll keep one of the men for myself and hire a carriage when I’ve concluded my business here.”

  Erika leaned back in her seat and watched her grandfather for a moment. How could he not see it? This was most certainly a trap. Nikslaus was trying to get her to do exactly this, and when she did, he would come after her in force. Not that he’d given her a choice. She could wait for him to tighten the noose or she could leap from the gallows and hope the rope broke.

  “Be very careful,” grandfather added. “I need you coming back alive. You wouldn’t want one of your younger brothers to inherit the duchy now, would you?”

  “Of course not. They’re much too headstrong.” Erika winked at her grandfather. “Thank you so much. I’ll see you in a few months when I return.”

  Norrine sat alone in a small room tucked into the corner of an inn just a stone’s throw from the Norport docks.

  The dirty, fishy smell of the city made her ill. Whatever the innkeeper had burned in the room to rid it of the smell hadn’t done enough, and Norrine thought she might throw up any minute. Riding in Da’s rowboat had always made her queasy. The smell of fish doubly so. How was she supposed to survive for two days on the Adsea?

  Santiole had gone to get provisions for the short trip across the Adsea. Back at the Leora manor, hiding in the abandoned stables, being alone hadn’t bothered Norrine. Here in the city it made her nervous. She had never been in a town bigger than a few hundred people. Santiole said that Norport had fifteen thousand.

  Fifteen thousand! Most of the children Norrine knew couldn’t even fathom such a number. Norrine only knew it because Ma had taught her numbers and even still....

  She got off the bed and stood on her tiptoes to look out the window. Her view was dirty alleyway and just a sliver of the main street. Wagons rolled by, gentlemen strolled, and laborers moved cargo from the ships in the harbor.

  The door thumped open, making Norrine jump. Santiole stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind her, and gave Norrine a disapproving glance. “You shouldn’t hang about near the window. And keep that scarf up around your neck, even when you’re alone.”

  “Sorry,” Norrine muttered.

  “The ship leaves in two hours. We’ll go get settled so that Erika isn’t seen with us.”

  “She’ll be on the same boat, though?”

  “Ship. And yes, she will. But you can’t talk to her on this journey. In fact, if you see her you’re to pretend you don’t know her at all. As will I. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Pull up your scarf and let’s go.”

  Norrine adjusted her jacket and scarf to conceal her brand and followed Santiole down the hallway and to the common room downstairs.

  “Don’t walk so close. You’ll tread on my heels,” Santiole said.

  Norrine fell back a few feet behind the mistress-at-arms and tried not to focus on all the people around them. Alone, in the forest, you knew who you were. You knew who your enemy was. But here, with so many people around....

  She put her hand to her scarf. One slip, and someone would shout. Anyone here would turn her in for the reward.

  Santiole walked with a particular swagger. No one gave her a second glance. She looked so natural and unconcerned. She walked with confidence, Norrine realized, like someone who could fight any two people in the room and come out on top. Norrine tried to emulate the walk and imagined it would be easier with decades of training and a small sword and pistol at her hip.

  Out on the street, Norrine reached out with her senses, looking for powder, and nearly gasped at the sudden overwhelming sensation. She could feel it all around her! That man walking past them had a loaded pistol at his hip. That woman driving the carriage had a powder horn and a blunderbuss. Two buildings over was a small armory, with dozens of barrels of powder.

  Norrine’s mouth watered at it all. Was this what it was like for every powder mage? How could anyone stand to stay in a city with such overwhelming sensations? Such...temptations! She felt like she could just reach out with her mind and ignite it all.

  The dock planks were soon underfoot, and Norrine’s heart beat faster as they approached their ship. Which one would it be? Santiole said it was called a schooner.

  Santiole raised her hand in greeting toward a man coming toward them. He wasn’t wearing a shirt despite the chill of the wind blowing off the Adsea. He had a lean, muscular build. His chest was criss-crossed with old scars and his head was shaved bald. He returned Santiole’s greeting.

  “Not going out today, I’m afraid,” he called before he reached them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just got word that they’ve closed the port. Don’t know why yet. I think....”

  “All right,” Santiole cut him off. “Thanks. We’ll take another route.” She took Norrine by the hand and was already turning her back on the docks.

  “Well, it might be open tomorrow. You’ll just have to wait.�
��

  “We’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Santiole called over her shoulder.

  Norrine could sense Santiole’s sudden alertness. She walked on the balls of her feet, as if ready to run or fight at a moment’s notice. They left the dock quickly, taking a seemingly random series of turns on the city streets for nearly fifteen minutes, during which Norrine decided it best to stay silent.

  They finally stopped on a street corner beside a small cafe. Santiole dropped into one of the chairs outside the cafe and pushed Norrine into one beside her. The mistress-at-arms instantly seemed to relax, her body language becoming careless as she sprawled back and called for a waiter.

  Norrine tried to copy her relaxed manner. She could see Santiole’s eyes working quickly, searching the crowds.

  “What’s wrong?” Norrine asked quietly.

  “No one just closes the port,” Santiole responded, her voice low. She paused as the waiter approached, and paid for coffee for both of them. When the waiter was gone, she went on, “Only the mayor can close the port, and his fortunes are all tied up in trade with Adro. He would sooner cut off his own thumb than close the port even for a day. It had to be Nikslaus.”

  Norrine didn’t follow. “But you just said that only....”

  “A Privileged can do just about anything, child,” Santiole said, “And a Privileged Longdog has the authority of the king. He must have followed us here.” Her lips moved silently, as if she were considering something. “If Nikslaus is here, Duke Leora will be watched. As will Erika. I can’t risk making contact with either of them and leading the Longdogs back to you.” She fell silent for another few moments and then said, “Stay here.” She got to her feet and disappeared into the crowds before Norrine could respond.

  Norrine remained frozen in her chair. She waited for Santiole to return. And she waited some more. The waiter returned with a new cup of coffee for Santiole, smiling congenially at Norrine. Norrine made herself smile back.

  She waited even longer.

  It soon became apparent that Santiole would not be right back. Norrine lifted her coffee to her lips, taking a sip and nearly spitting it back out. It was so bitter!