Voices brought Erika awake again. Voices and light. A panic set into her instantly, and she sat bolt upright, one hand searching for her sword.
The sword was gone, fueling her desperation. Her eyelids seemed impossibly heavy and her body sluggish as she sought desperately for a weapon. Strong hands took her by the shoulder and a voice called to her. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all, before realization set in.
“Father?” she asked.
She shook violently, and the hands kept their grip until she was able to calm down. Lord Pensbrook, her father, eventually stepped away from her and she took the chance to look around. She was in the sitting room of the family’s Budwiel townhouse. Father stood beside her, wearing only his pajamas. He was a tall man with a broad chest and a neatly trimmed, black goatee.
“It’s me, my dear,” father said, taking her by the hand. “You’re safe.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled in concern.
“Your father carried you inside. You’ve been asleep there for two hours. You haven’t been out like that since you were a child.” Erika craned her head to find mother sitting behind her, leaning forward on the edge of the chaise. She was still wearing a crimson evening dress, her hair done up for a night of playing cards with her friends. She was a tall woman herself, but she looked small beside Lord Pensbrook.
Erika vaguely remembered noise and the sensation of movement, but she thought it a dream as the carriage drove on. “How did I...wait,” Erika said, trying to find her thoughts. “I thought you were in Adopest?”
“We were,” mother said, “We came down for one of Baron Ildal’s masquerades.”
“I was on my way to Adopest,” Erika explained. “Grandfather was going to put me on a ship in Norport, but then the harbor was closed and...” she stopped when she saw the odd look on her mother’s face.
“We know, dear,” mother said. “Dominik told us. He told us everything.”
“Everything?” Of course he had. Dominik wouldn’t lie to them.
She waited for a response from either of them and tried to come up with some kind of explanation. They exchanged a glance and then father went over to the door. He opened it, checked the hallway, and came back in and nodded to mother.
“The girl is safe,” mother said.
“Norrine.”
“Yes. Norrine is safe. I know of homes for children like that in Adopest. She’ll be safe from Kez mage hunters.”
Father looked at Erika with the face he usually reserved for scolding Jakola or Camenir. He remained silent, however, and gestured for mother to continue.
“We’ve made a decision,” mother said.
Erika shifted nervously, still trying to clear her muddled mind. “About what?” Were they going to keep her in Adopest? Or send her abroad? They might think of anything, and clearly father was not happy about what she’d done.
“With Santiole’s death, you need a new tutor.”
“So soon?”
“Yes,” father said, rather too gruffly.
Mother glanced at him, and then went on. “We’ve decided that for your own safety, you need to be trained as a powder mage.”
“That’s absurd!” Erika said, regretting it once the words had left her mouth. “I swore to the king!” An oath she’d broken many times by experimenting with powder.
“It’ll be done in the utmost secrecy,” father said.
“You’re only half Kez, you know,” mother said, glancing at father. “And you would keep your word while you are on Kez soil. But here in Adro, you will learn how to control your powers, and how to wield them. Dominik told us how you bested a master mage hunter. With the right training, there won’t be a man in Kez who’s a threat to you. And you’ll need that when you inherit your grandfather’s land and titles.”
“Who would train me?” Erika asked. “No one of repute, I’m sure. Even here in Adro, powder mages aren’t exactly forthcoming with who they are.”
“There is one man. He’s a captain in the Adran army. Low-born, but you know how the army is. To rise even to captain, he’d have to be quite exceptional.”
“And who is he?”
“His name is Tamas.”
Tamas. Wasn’t that the name of the man the guard captain had spoken of? “And he’s agreed to teach me?” How could he have agreed so quickly? Unless they were already considering this before Erika’s arrival.
“We haven’t asked him yet,” father said. “And we don’t know if he’s going to say yes. He has a rather unsavory reputation for hating the nobility.”
Mother didn’t seem particularly concerned. “You’ll ask him yourself,” she said.
The more Erika thought about the idea, the more she warmed to it. She remembered the power that coursed through her when she had taken powder to fight Duglas. She knew how powder sharpened her senses and made her quick, and from what she understood a powder mage could do so much more.
“I’ll go to Adopest and meet with him myself,” she said.
“As a matter of fact,” mother responded, “He’s in Budwiel. He’ll be at the masquerade tomorrow night.”
Epilogue
Norrine liked her new family well enough.
She had been given as ward to a farmer southwest of Adopest. The old man insisted she call him ‘Papa,’ and his wife immediately began to teach Norrine to speak Adran. They had three other children, but they were all grown and gone from the farm, and they seemed to enjoy the company.
Norrine tried to ask about Erika, but neither Papa nor his wife, Madia, seemed to know anything about her and her questions were always answered with the shake of a head.
Winter passed in Adro, and spring came early the next year. Papa and Madia celebrated Norrine’s thirteenth birthday with a new doll and sweet sugarcakes. She was given chores around the farm and grew closer to her new family. She even made friends with the two boys from the next farm over. As time went by she found herself wondering about her old home less and less, though she often wished that Phille was still alive and could come live with her here.
One morning Madia woke Norrine with a solemn scowl and told her to dress for a day out in the woods.
Papa took her several miles from the farm to the edge of the great western forest. His ox cart trundled onward, into the darkness of the deep wood, and Norrine noticed that Papa wasn’t whistling like he normally did when he drove the wagon.
The air grew cold and Norrine recalled running through the forests of northern Kez, before Erika had rescued her. She resisted the urge to rub at her feet—she still had scars from that ordeal—and pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders.
“Papa,” she said, trying to work through her broken Adran. Madia could speak Kez, but Papa didn’t know a word of it. “Where are we going?”
“Just a little further,” Papa answered, his voice quiet.
The wagon drove around a bend in the road, and Norrine caught sight of a grassy clearing. She got a whiff of smoke from a campfire and saw a horse tied up to a tree with a feed bag fastened around its neck.
Papa reigned in the oxen and looked at Norrine. He gave her a kindly smile. “Don’t be scared.”
About what, she wanted to ask. But Papa was already climbing down from the cart. He crossed the road, gesturing for Norrine to follow. She hesitated for a moment, feeling the same urgency and fear that had plagued her in the scramble to escape the mage hunters. What was going on?
A young officer knelt next to the fire. He arose as Papa approached. They shook hands, and a few words were exchanged. The man wore an Adran army uniform—dark blue with silver trim and a crimson collar. He was taller than Papa, taller than Santiole had been, and lean like a young willow tree. His face was clean-shaven, and his black hair perfectly parted.
“Come on, girl,” the man said in Adran. His words were clipped and precise.
Norrine crossed the road and approached, ready to run at any moment. Who was this man? What did he want with her? She reached out with her senses and felt
the black powder on him. He had many powder charges, and a full powder horn. There was another hanging from his horse’s saddle. The pistol at his belt was loaded, as was the carbine strapped to the saddle.
The corner of the man’s mouth lifted slightly. “She won’t be very strong,” he said in Adran. “But I’m told she has spirit.” He suddenly switched to Kez. “Girl, do you speak my language, or do you prefer we speak in Kez?”
“Kez,” Norrine said. Was he a Kez spy? A Longdog in disguise? Her muscles tensed as she prepared to run for the forest. She could ignite his powder, killing him, and flee. It would be her only chance.
“Kez it is, then,” the man said. He flipped his hand dismissively to Papa, who turned back toward the ox cart.
Norrine felt her breath coming quicker. “Papa? Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right here until you’ve finished,” Papa said gently.
“Until I finish what?”
“With me.”
Norrine turned to find the man in front of her, within arm’s reach. He didn’t look very old—thirty at the most—but she could see the lines on his face and the way his skin was already weathered.
“What do you want?” her voice came out a whisper.
His face serious, the man reached into his breast pocket. He removed a powder charge and held it out toward her on his palm. “I want you to show me what you can do.” The powder charge suddenly split, the white paper curling as the black powder within began to glow and spark, burning away slowly until nothing was left but ash and the sulfur smell of burnt powder.
Norrine felt her eyes widen. He was a powder mage.
“My name is Captain Tamas. A friend of mine has asked me to teach you how to use your powers and as I am currently stationed nearby....” The corner of his mouth lifted once more. “You begin your training today.”
For more in the Powder Mage Universe:
Promise of Blood
The Powder Mage Trilogy
Orbit, April 2013
Sample
The Crimson Campaign
The Powder Mage Trilogy
Orbit, May 2014
“The Girl of Hrusch Avenue”
A Powder Mage Short Story
June 2013
“Hope’s End”
A Powder Mage Short Story
September 2013
Contact Brian McClellan
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[email protected]
Acknowledgements
Rene Aigner - cover artist
Michele McClellan - editor
Sunny Morton - copy editor
Special Thanks to Doug Hulick, Stephen Blackmoore, Isaac Stewart, David Wolreich, Glen Spratt, Caleb Powers, Greg Harrison, Jae Lerer, Scott “Gru’ud Squinteye”, Brett Wehs, Jack Jasilionis, Emilie Nangle, Shomari Kirkwood, Andrew Ward, Sue Armitage, Lisa McCurrach, Christon Pierce, Chris Ruttencutter, Mike Wants, and Lulu
Forsworn: A Powder Mage Short Story Page 7