War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4)

by Meredith Mansfield

  Movement in the tall grass attracted her eye and she wheeled her horse toward it, taking a firmer grip on her spear. From the way the herd dogs growled as they gathered the nervous cattle, it must be a predator. Too small for a bear. The grass wasn’t so tall that a bear’s back wouldn’t be visible above the seed heads. Not a lion, either, or she’d have been able to sense it sooner.

  Wolf, maybe. Or possibly a swiftcat, though a swiftcat usually wouldn’t come this close when there were mounted herdsmen around. Well, she could deal with a single wolf or drive off a swiftcat without calling for help. In fact, it’d be a pure relief to be able to spear something right now. And maybe it’d even finally convince Daron that she belonged out here as much as he did.

  Kiara shifted her grip on the hardwood shaft of her spear and tightened her knees to steady her horse, watching the grass for the wolf to step out. She resisted the urge to blink when a lion stepped out instead. How had she not sensed a lion this close?

  Kiara held her breath, though she was too stunned to be properly afraid. This was the strangest lion she’d ever seen. Instead of tawny, with perhaps a darker mane, he was all black. That . . . wasn’t unheard of. But this lion was also gaunt, undersized and apparently underfed. When he took a step forward, his movement was clumsy, almost as if he didn’t know how his joints were supposed to work. It felt wrong.

  The lion took another awkward step forward, but still didn’t charge. Kiara’s heart thumped almost into her throat at that intense stare. She’d been prepared for a wolf, not this. Sensing her fear, her horse shied and she fought for control, backing the horse slowly away from the lion.

  “Daron!” she yelled, trying not to sound afraid.

  This wasn’t the time to let her pride or Daron’s prejudice against her get in the way. She was Lion Clan; she couldn’t kill a lion except to defend her own life. Even then, there’d be a month’s worth of cleansing rituals to go through. Being Horse Clan, Daron had no such restrictions. It was the main reason these herding groups always included herdsmen from different clans whenever possible.

  Daron turned his horse at her call and charged down on the lion with his heavy lance. The beast turned and fled back into the tall grass.

  Kiara watched the lion retreat, trying to sort out what was so wrong about him. Beside his strange appearance, he hadn’t behaved like any lion she’d ever seen. Worst of all was the fact that she hadn’t been able to sense him. Still couldn’t. Reflexively, she reached out, testing her bond to the Spirit of the Lion. There were lions under the trees at the waterhole a mile off, but not a hint of that black lion which had to be much closer than that. It didn’t make any sense.

  “How did you let that happen, Kiara?” Daron asked when he turned back to her, contempt in his eyes.

  Kiara blinked at this interruption to her thoughts. “I thought it must be a wolf, because—”

  Daron sneered. “If you can’t tell the difference between a lion and a wolf, you’re no use to me out here. Go back and tend the children and the vegetable patch with the rest of the women.”

  “Daron—”

  Daron waved a dismissive hand. “You’re no good helping with the herds if you can’t even give proper warning of your totem animal. Go on.”

  Kiara’s back stiffened as she felt her face flush with anger, her mind working furiously. Daron was the same age as Vatar—almost eight years older than Kiara—and the son of Bion, the Chief Herdsman of the Dardani. Which put him indisputably in charge out here, though Kiara had never been good at taking orders. He was within his rights to call her unsuitable for the work and send her away, even if it was unjust. Going quietly would make it easier to earn a second chance. More important, she needed answers she wasn’t going to find out here. “I’m going, Daron. Because there’s something really wrong here and I mean to find out what. But before I go there’s something you need to know. I didn’t sense that lion even when he was right in front of me. So don’t rely on my clan brothers to sense him for you, either, if he comes back. Keep your eyes open.”

  She turned her horse and galloped back towards the village without giving him time to respond. Probably Daron expected her to run crying to her father, to get him to intercede with Bion to force Daron to take her back.

  Kiara had much bigger things on her mind. A lion she couldn’t sense, that looked and moved wrong. That could only mean one thing. It was the only possible explanation. That wasn’t a lion at all. It was someone using the shape of a lion—and not very well. She blinked. Yes, and now she thought of it, the lion had felt wrong in the same way as Thekila’s and Theklan’s eagles, hadn’t it? Could it be Vatar? She doubted it, but she’d never seen her brother’s avatar. There was only one way to be sure. Just not here, out in the open.

  Chapter 36: Practice

  Thekila rocked Taleara gently and glanced over at Vatar riding beside her. He was unusually silent as they rode south and west—away from where the herds were, or would be anytime soon. Though she could feel his concern through their bond, his thoughts were shut off from her for the moment. “What’s on your mind? Kiara?”

  Vatar sighed. “That. And Savara. And what we’re going to do about the Exiles. And how much trouble Gerusa is likely to make when they go to take her into custody.”

  Thekila laughed. “In other words, the world. Can we try to start with something a little smaller? More within our reach? And work up to the world, a little at a time?”

  Vatar chuckled, too, and relaxed just a little. Enough that she could begin to dimly sense his thoughts.

  “So, what worries you about Kiara? The trouble between her and Theklan?”

  Vatar shook his head. “Normally, I think it would be something they need to work out for themselves. And, if they can’t, then it’s better they find out now. But if she can’t even get over her . . . difficulties with Theklan to prepare to fight the Exiles . . . . This is bigger than whatever problems they have between them. Why can’t she see that?” He sighed. “We may have to come up with another plan. One that doesn’t depend only on me. Because, in a battle, anything can happen.”

  “Well, we should have a backup plan anyway, I guess. But I think you’re not taking your parents into account. Kiara may escape from her training for today. But both Danar and Lucina know exactly how important she is. And if anyone knows how to handle Kiara in a snit, it’s your mother.”

  The corner of Vatar’s mouth turned up slightly. “That’s true.”

  “You’re still worried about her having to show her magic, too. Aren’t you?”

  Vatar nodded. “Her and Savara. It’s been difficult for me to conceal it from the Dardani—and I’m only here for a couple of months each year. Kiara’ll be here all the time. And now that we’ve revealed our magic to Baraz, he’ll know.”

  “But easier for him to understand it,” Thekila countered. “Surely he won’t think it’s sorcery after telling the chiefs that our magic was a gift of the Spirits to protect the Dardani.”

  “I don’t know,” Vatar said with a little shake of his head. “And it’s not just Baraz. We’ve only revealed our magic to a very few of the chiefs for a reason. The Dardani superstition about any magic not wielded by the shaman runs very deep. And even the shaman does most of his work in private.”

  “Wouldn’t calling it a gift one moment and a curse the next be like trying to stand on both sides of a river at once?”

  Vatar grimaced. “That kind of mental acrobatics isn’t impossible—for some men.”

  “Well, if Kiara does help us in this fight, Baraz’ll practically have to accept her magic . . . at least as much as he’s accepted ours. The chiefs will know and think he’s a fraud, otherwise.”

  Vatar blew out a breath but looked marginally less grim. “Maybe.”

  After a pause, Thekila asked, “And Savara? I know it’s a lot to expect a girl her age to understand why she should keep her Healing Talents secret. Especially if there are a lot of wounded to care for.”

  “Not
just the secrecy, though that’s obviously an issue.” Vatar shook his head. “Savara’s barely trained. Really just the calming and focusing exercises. Boreala has only begun to teach her about anatomy. I know what it’s like to overtax your magic. I nearly burned mine out once, as you’ll recall. And I was a lot older than Savara. She’ll be as determined to save everyone as she was to save that bird. How do you make a six year old understand the limits of her magic? It’s a constant battle to keep Zavar from pushing his physical limits. I’m very much afraid Savara will be the same way about this.”

  Thekila chewed her lip. She could see his concerns all too clearly and she didn’t really have a good answer for that one. Best to move on to the next topic, then. “I thought we’d come up with some good ideas about how to fight the Exiles, at least.”

  Vatar hunched a little in his saddle. “It’s not just fighting them.”

  “Oh?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Have you thought about what we’ll have to do with them—assuming we win, of course? We can’t hold them prisoner. Anyone who can do what we—and they—can do can escape just about any prison we can devise, given enough time. And, anyway, the Dardani don’t have any means of keeping anyone prisoner for long. Transgressors are usually expected to try to expiate their crimes. Only the very worst offenders are exiled from the tribe and sent north to fend for themselves. But banishment was tried once by the Valson—and look where that got us. There’s no place far enough where we could just let the Exiles go. They’d still be too dangerous and we’d just end up having to fight them again. And again.”

  Thekila was silent for a long moment, digesting this. She didn’t much like the taste, but she couldn’t see a way around his logic, either. “You mean we have to kill them all?”

  Vatar nodded grimly. “I don’t see any other way. We can’t keep them prisoner indefinitely. Not even in Caere. Selene escaped from her cell on Palace Island. If anything, the Exiles will be harder to hold than she was, because of their ability to manipulate objects with their magic. And . . . according to Zoria, a lot of women and even children got caught up because of Nertan and Wartan. We can’t just kill them. And yet . . . if they think the same way their leaders do, how can we afford to just let them go free?”

  No. The comment was accompanied by the thin whistling sound that marked Taleus’s voice.

  Thekila looked up and met Vatar’s startled gaze.

  What do you mean? Vatar asked. What else can we do?

  If your daughter has inherited Calpe’s gift, she can not only wake Talents, as she did with your sister. She can quench them, too. Like Calpe did to our sons—your ancestors—long ago.

  Thekila felt Vatar’s fear spike.

  Would that be safe for her? He asked.

  After a pause, Taleus responded, What I did for you, opening your access to the Talents you inherited from me—or from Calpe—was not like what Calpe described of her Talent. From inside you, I could perceive the barrier that blocked your Talents and weaken it until it disintegrated. It didn’t require any knowledge of your living body or mind, as a Healer’s studies do. I don’t know what it was like for Savara, working from the outside. You would have to ask her. In reverse, I suppose it would be building that barrier. It might help if we could watch her do it. Practice would probably be as helpful to her as it has been to you.

  Who would she practice on? Vatar demanded.

  Gerusa and Selene couldn’t escape if their Talents were quenched. It might even be possible to make their confinement less unpleasant.

  Maybe, Vatar responded.

  Thekila sighed. “In any case, that’s a problem for another day. There’s nothing we can do about that right now, anyway. One thing at a time.”

  ~

  Thekila looked around with satisfaction. The waterhole Vatar had chosen for this practice was too small and too distant to be used much by the herdsmen. And, lacking much in the way of sun-warmed rocks or shady trees, not much used by lions—real ones—either. Nearly ideal for their purposes. The only thing that could have made it better was something to act as a screen between what they would be doing and the horses.

  As soon as they’d made camp, Vatar securely tethered the horses. Mere hobbles wouldn’t be enough. They settled Taleara, sound asleep, in the tent. Then he and Thekila walked a little distance out onto the plains and downwind. Not far enough to be out of sight, of course. That wasn’t practical when the surrounding area was this flat and they didn’t want to be that far from Taleara. But at least the horses wouldn’t be able to smell them in their lion forms.

  Vatar made the Transformation to his lion avatar first, since that form was so much easier for him. Thekila took a little longer to push through the resistance and pain into the less familiar form. Then she took off at a lope, running in a wide circle around their camp. She’d told Vatar she was faster as a lioness, and it was true. A good run would warm them both up for the sparring they’d do later. Besides, in her opinion Vatar had a tendency to worry too much—or, at least, about too many things at once. As if he alone had to solve all the world’s problems. A little bit of fun would be good for him.

  She glanced back long enough to see Vatar give his mane a shake—a gesture she’d learned to associate with leonine amusement. Then he sprang after her and she had to run in earnest. Faster she might be, but Vatar had surely learned to move efficiently in his avatar form.

  Lions were built for sprints, not long-distance running, so she slowed to a pace she could maintain longer, trusting to her head start to keep her ahead of Vatar for just long enough. He was gaining on her, though, so she put on a burst of speed.

  Stop! Thekila, stop now! Vatar’s mental voice sounded . . . panicked. Thekila didn’t discount the dangers of the plains. She’d seen too many of them at first hand. She slowed and turned to the right to run back toward him.

  Not that way!

  Thekila stopped short, suddenly aware of the reason for Vatar’s fear. Lion. A real one. Fortunately not too close. Not yet. A big male trotting into the open from out of the taller grasses—right toward her. Vatar must have sensed it.

  Thekila froze, unsure what to do. Lone lions—males without a pride—would fight another male to take over any females. Which was exactly what she would look like to him. So, what should she do now? Shifting back to human form would probably be a mistake. Could she shift directly into eagle form and still have time to fly out of his reach?

  Vatar ran up beside her. Go back toward the waterhole. Protect Taleara. Walk, don’t run.

  What are you going to do?

  I’ll try to warn him off. Go.

  Well, that way she could get enough space to Transform safely, but . . . what then? What about you?

  Go, now. Vatar roared a challenge and charged forward. The other lion answered. And before Thekila could think, the real lion charged. Vatar, used to dealing with her much faster lioness, dodged the first blow, a broad swipe of the lion’s massive paw. Vatar raised up on his haunches to strike back. The other lion matched him and, for a moment, they traded blows that snapped each other’s heads violently to the side.

  Thekila had to do something, but what? Even as a lioness, she was far too small to stand a chance in that fight. But she couldn’t just run—or fly—away, either. Unless . . . she flew back to the horses. Mounted, and with her spear she’d be much more help to Vatar. A rider might even be enough to chase the other lion away.

  With a final look back at the two lions—one tawny, one white and black—Thekila flowed directly from the lioness form into an eagle and launched herself into the air, flying as fast as she ever had for the waterhole and the horses. She shifted back to her true form almost before her feet touched the ground.

  No time to worry about saddling her horse. She’d need the bridle, though. Vatar might be able to ride without it, but not Thekila. She snatched up the bridle and the spear Vatar had made for her. It took a moment to get her horse to take the bit. This was a task Vatar normally did, t
hough he’d made sure Thekila knew how. Then, without Vatar to lift her into the saddle, she had to lead the beast over to a fallen log and lean the spear against the trunk of a sapling tree. Then she threw herself over the horse’s back, belly down, before straightening out with a leg over each side and reaching for the spear.

  This had all taken too long. Anything could be happening out there. She spurred the horse toward the noise of the fight. As they drew near, the horse wanted to shy, but she held it firm with the pressure of her knees, just as Vatar had taught her.

  All she could make out of the battle was a cloud of dust, obscuring both lions. She couldn’t use the spear unless she could see which lion she was aiming at. But she had to do something. Before she could think of anything, the lions sprang apart and mostly clear of the dust cloud. The white lion—Vatar—roared again and the tawny one shook its mane and ran off in the direction it had come from.

  Thekila let out a long breath in relief and slid from the horse’s back. Dropping the spear, she ran to Vatar. “Are you hurt?”

  Vatar turned to face her and then shifted back to human form. “No.” He felt his neck and inspected his hand. There was a faint pinkish tinge to the slimy goo. “Or . . . not much. That mane isn’t just for show. It’s pretty good protection against claws and teeth, too. At least, as long as the other lion doesn’t get a good grip. Think I’ll want a dip in that waterhole, though, before we try this again. Wash off the lion spit.”

  Thekila inspected a spot just below his left ear. “Just a scratch, but we need to get it cleaned up.” She lunged in to give him a hard hug. “I’d just as soon you didn’t do that again. Although . . . if you can defeat a real, full-sized male lion, I don’t think you need to spar with my undersized lioness. You’re obviously ready to fight in that form right now.”