by Victor Poole
Philas's face puckered in, but he did not reply.
Delmar had wrapped his shirt over his neck so that the ends hung down around his chest. He had gone off of the road, and was down on his knees in the rough dark rock. Ajalia slid off of her horse, and tossed her reins at Philas, who caught them. She went to where Delmar was kneeling, and put her head near him.
"How are you in a fight?" she asked.
"There won't be a fight," Delmar said dreamily. He had inserted his fingers deep into a rocky crevice, and seemed to be trying to pull the mountain up by the roots.
"What are you doing?" Ajalia asked. Delmar smiled at her.
"Magic," he said.
Ajalia stood up, her lips curled in anger, and turned just in time to see four shadows rise up over the crest of the road. She gripped the hilt of her knife, and hissed at Philas.
"There is nothing," Philas told her.
A blossom of golden light filled the air behind her; it cast a gossamer silky glow over the area, and made a yellow illumination over the faces of the four robbers. They had flanked Philas on both sides; two of them had long pieces of sharpened stone in their hands that were long and thin on one edge, like swords.
When the dancing gold light fell upon them, these robbers froze; their faces turned towards Ajalia. It took her a moment to realize that they were all four looking at Delmar. She turned, and gasped.
Delmar had conjured an image of a glowing yellow bird, its wings outspread, and its beak stretched wide in a cry of war. The bird was composed of golden lines of light; each line was about the thickness of a finger. The bird was floating up into the air, waving a little in the sky. The image seemed to be attached to Delmar; when he stood up, the bird rose abruptly behind him, and hovered in the air above his head.
The spaces between the golden edges of the bird were filled with stars. One of the robbers spoke; Ajalia recognized the wild dialect, the old Slavithe that she had first heard in the quarries. Delmar said something in reply, and the robbers relaxed. Ajalia looked back at the shining golden bird, and when she turned back to the robbers, they were gone.
"What did they say?" Philas called to Ajalia. She shrugged. Her eyes turned irresistibly again to the floating image of the bird.
"How did you do that?" she asked Delmar. His eyes were vague again, and happy. He shrugged.
"It is easy magic," he told her. "Images are nothing."
Ajalia went towards Delmar, and raised her finger to touch the glowing lines of gold. Delmar caught her by the wrist, and shook his head sharply.
"He cannot see," Delmar whispered to Ajalia. "He does not believe." He gestured with his eyes towards Philas, and Ajalia looked at Philas on the horse. She saw that Delmar was right; Philas was staring around in the dark, trying to see where the robbers had gone.
Ajalia crossed to Philas.
"Can you see anything?" she asked Philas. She saw that his eyes were straining in the darkness; though to her the night was now filled with a gentle glow, allowing her to see easily. Philas's jaw was clenched, and his eyes were combing through an apparent darkness.
"I can't see them," Philas said. "Have they gone?"
"What did they say to you?" Ajalia called to Delmar. Delmar came closer to her. The floating image of the hunting bird followed behind him. Ajalia saw that it was beginning to fade; wisps of the golden light were dissipating into the cool night air.
"They were waiting for someone else," Delmar said, "not us." The calm in his voice seemed to impart an equal calm to Philas. "We are free to go on," Delmar said.
"Do you want to turn back?" Philas asked Ajalia.
"It is as Delmar says," Ajalia said. "We go on."
She took the reins of her horse from Philas.
"You go in front, with the boy," Ajalia told Philas. She bit the inside of her cheek. "We will be safer if you are in front," she added. Philas did not notice the sliver of tartness in her voice, and he nudged his horse forward. Ajalia led her horse by the reins, and followed slowly behind Philas. She waited for him to pull ahead, and then turned to Delmar.
"What is this bird?" she asked softly, her eyes upturned to the floating image. She saw that pieces of the yellow light, as they tore away into the air, drifted down against Delmar's bare skin, and melted into his body. "What is the light?" she asked, raising a finger into the golden glow that was yet spreading around Delmar like a halo.
"This is my soul," Delmar said proudly. "I can shape it, if the earth allows."
"Your soul?" Ajalia asked. She was seeing the bird, but she did not believe that Delmar had drawn out a part of himself. She watched the golden lines lick, like tiny spurts of flame, into the flesh of Delmar's shoulders. His skin reddened a little where the light sank in; Ajalia wondered if Delmar's skin was warm to the touch there.
"Why did you put your hands into the rock?" she asked. She kept her voice low, although Philas was some distance ahead. The clatter of her horse's hooves against the smooth stone road made a ready cover for their talk. "Why can I see what you did?" she added.
"There is magic in Slavithe stone," Delmar said simply. Ajalia remembered the old woman, Eccsa's mother, and the white stone that had gleamed golden when it had been scrubbed with the tar of the poison tree.
"What did they say to you?" Ajalia asked.
"They would have killed you, maybe," Delmar murmured. "It's hard to know. We could have gone up the northern pass."
"Do those men know you?" Ajalia asked.
"All who wear the white brand know of one another," Delmar said. "We do not speak of what we know, but we will not harm each other."
Ajalia's hand wrapped itself around the long white marks on her left wrist; she was holding her horse's reins in her hands, and the rough leather, trapped between her palm and her wrist, made an indent against the uneven skin of her bumpy scars.
"What is that?" she asked him. "What is the white brand?"
She watched Delmar's face, which was aglow in the light of the disintegrating bird. His eyes, which had always seemed vague and silly, had taken on an unearthly glow. His cheeks were ruddier, and his mouth was curled in a peaceful smile.
"It means your soul is clean," Delmar said, "unfettered and pure. That man," he said, nodding towards Philas ahead, "is unclean. He has betrayed himself."
"Is that why you follow me around?" Ajalia asked in a low voice. "You follow me because I have that?"
"Oh, I don't care about that," Delmar said. "I just like you."
Ajalia felt a rising frustration in her core; the golden bird was almost gone, and the bare fragments of light that were left made Ajalia's eyes itch in the dampening darkness. She wanted the magic to come back.
"What were the words you said to them?" Ajalia asked Delmar.
"I don't know," Delmar said. Ajalia growled at him. "I told them you were not harming me," Delmar said.
Ajalia stopped walking, and stared at Delmar. His bare torso was coated with shadowy remnants of the ruddy light, and his tunic hung against his chest like a thick scarf. Delmar stopped, and turned towards her. Ajalia wrinkled her nose at the spectacle he presented. She wanted to snap at him to put his clothes back on, but she didn't want him to know she had been looking.
"What would they have done, if you had said we harmed you?" Ajalia asked. The night air was swirling up and down against her face; Philas and the boy Leed had vanished over the top of the hill ahead. Delmar came towards Ajalia. She gripped the leather reins, and let go of her scars.
"Let me see your arm," Delmar said. He held out a hand. Ajalia put her wrist into his hand; his fingers closed over her skin, and a hot flush of blood swept over her face. Delmar pushed Ajalia's sleeve up to her elbow, and lifted her marbled skin up in the moonlight.
"What would they have done?" Ajalia asked.
"How did you get these?" Delmar asked her. Ajalia's breath was beginning to wriggle frantically against the sides of her neck. The stars seemed to drop closer in against her head. She closed her eyes, and concentrated o
n not becoming dizzy. Delmar's fingers traced over the thick white parts of her scarring. An unbearable sensation of being about to faint flooded through Ajalia's body; she pulled her hand away from Delmar. He let go of her arm; her skin turned to ice as soon as his fingers passed away from her wrist.
Ajalia turned to her horse. She lifted one leg, and put it down again. She rested her forehead against the saddle on her horse, and closed her eyes.
"Philas will come back," she said. Her throat was dry. "Help me get on the horse," she said.
"Are you all right?" Delmar asked her.
"Get me on the horse," Ajalia repeated. Her voice was starting to scramble at the edges. She wanted to scream, but she could not make her throat open. Something in her tone got through to Delmar. He wrapped his hands around her waist, and lifted her towards the horse's back.
Ajalia had forgotten how strong Delmar was. He looked like a pasty weakling, until he lifted things. His arms seemed to be made of something more than muscle.
Nausea overcame Ajalia as soon as she was on top of the horse; she bent forward, and clenched both fists in the horse's coarse mane. She breathed in the earthy smell of the horse. The gelding's neck was warm and solid; he was like a massive, living rock beneath her.
"Walk," she gasped down to Delmar. She kicked the horse. With an effort, she sat upright. The mountains were spinning up and down; she could not force air into her body.
Philas appeared again at the top of the road. He waited for Ajalia and Delmar to reach him, and then reached out a hand to Ajalia. He was holding a piece of fragrant plant.
"You didn't follow," Philas said. His tone was friendly; Ajalia could see Philas looking with suspicion at Delmar. "Leed is asleep," he added lightly.
Ajalia nodded. She ignored the proffered plant.
"I found this," Philas said. He said nothing about Ajalia's refusal to take it. Philas held the plant out to Delmar. Delmar accepted the fragrant plant, and put it to his face.
"Dragon weed," Delmar told Philas. "It flowers in the spring."
"I thought you'd like it," Philas told Ajalia. "Why did you stop?" he asked. His eyes went from Ajalia to Delmar, and from Delmar to Ajalia. Ajalia did not trust herself to speak. She made her horse move forward past Philas, and she kept her torso rigid and upright. When she had gone a little way ahead, she heard Philas ask Delmar again why they had stopped.
"She wanted to know what those men said to me," Delmar told Philas. "She was worried they would come back."
"Oh," Philas said. The clop of his horse's hooves began again. Ajalia heard the murmur of low voices; she thought that they were discussing her. She wanted to collapse into the warmth of her horse's hairy mane, but she could not risk Philas knowing how weak she was. He had never seen her on the verge of a breakdown, and she knew he would take advantage of her. The horizon ahead blurred a little; Ajalia could not make out the tips of the mountains. The moon was beginning to vanish behind a bank of thick clouds. The stone road, which had been visible enough in the moon and starlight, began to blur together with the dark rock of the mountains.
A clatter of rapid hooves made Ajalia start; Philas rode past her. Soon he was some distance ahead, and in a moment, Ajalia could only hear him. He had vanished into the darkness.
DELMAR'S AFFECTION SHOWS
Delmar caught up with Ajalia. He put a hand on her leg, and the familiar rush of heat that filled her at his touch rose up in her skin.
"I'm fine," Ajalia said.
"Come down," Delmar said. "Philas has gone ahead."
"What did you say to him?" Ajalia asked. She was keeping her eyes open with difficulty; her body was beginning to sway a little in the saddle. She gripped the horse with her legs until sharp clenches of pain began to spasm in her muscles. "I'm fine," she said again.
"Philas is gone," Delmar said. "Come down."
"No," Ajalia said. She curled down on the horse; his withers made a sharp knob against her chest.
"Get down before you fall off," Delmar said. He picked her up, and put her down on the road. Ajalia whimpered, and her knees buckled. Delmar held his hands out. She caught herself before she fell, and leaned on the horse's shoulder. The brown gelding turned his head, and sniffed at Ajalia's hands.
"At least he's a calm horse," Delmar said.
"I was fine," Ajalia said. She rubbed her fingertips in circles through the horse's brown hide. "I'm fine."
"Sit down," Delmar said.
"No," Ajalia said shakily. She began to walk, leading the horse. Delmar looked as though he couldn't decide whether he should stop her.
"You don't look fine," he coaxed.
"Philas can't know," Ajalia said. "I won't let him see me like this." She forced herself to breathe deeply; a rush of sparks spread over her vision. She blinked hard, and shook her head. "I'm fine," she said again. Another rush of violent nausea made her stop and bend over in the road. "This will pass," she said impatiently. "There's nothing wrong with me." She stood upright, and began to walk quickly down the road.
Delmar was hovering near her, his hands floating helplessly in the air. If she had looked at him, she would have been startled by the anxiety in his eyes. He moved quickly to stay beside her. The horse snorted with annoyance at the starting and stopping, and shuffled along behind them, led by the leather reins.
"What did you say to those men?" Ajalia asked again. Her voice was stronger; she was sure that in a moment she would be able to ride. "Tell me," she commanded, and shot Delmar an irritated look.
"I told you already," Delmar said. "I told them you weren't harming me."
"I am sure," Ajalia shouted, "that that is not what you said! I want to know what you said!"
Delmar bridled a little at this.
"I said that you were like me," he said.
"What words did you use?" Ajalia demanded. Delmar stared at her, his mouth open. He was taken aback by her force.
"I said, 'She has the white brand,' and they went away," he admitted. Ajalia made herself walk. Coils of pain were spiraling through her legs, twisting in her stomach, clenching like death around her neck and jaw.
"Was that wrong?" Delmar asked hesitantly.
"Well, I am not dead," Ajalia said shortly. "So yes, lying was right."
"But you do have it," Delmar blurted out. Ajalia looked at him sharply. "You do," he insisted. "You saw my falcon. No one can see the magic who is unclean."
Ajalia let out a burst of short, harsh laughter.
"What?" Delmar demanded.
"You think I have a pure soul," Ajalia told him. "I find that amusing."
Delmar grabbed Ajalia by the elbow. The moonlight drifted in ragged fragments through wisps of cloud. Ajalia could see Delmar's eyes glinting dimly in the night. He studied her face; she was afraid that he was going to kiss her. His body radiated heat at her. She pulled herself free, and tugged at her horse, which was beginning to pull resentfully, and look at the edge of the road.
"This brown horse does not approve of all the stopping," Ajalia told Delmar. She smiled at him, and then Delmar did kiss her, or tried to. Ajalia extricated herself before he had thoroughly wound her up in his arms, but he made contact with her lips just long enough to sear her cheeks with the heat of his mouth.
Sparkling tingles of something like fire were whizzing up and down Ajalia's body.
"If you will not let me kiss you," Delmar said, and his voice was stronger than it had been, "then I will fix your arm."
"No," Ajalia said. She did not know how, but Delmar was somehow more vivid now. She felt herself falling unwillingly under his spell. She was sure that he would not have had the same effect on her if his arms and chest had not been glistening with the blue light of the fragmented moon. She told herself that she was attracted to his body, to his skin. She told herself that he was dumb. She told herself to stop flushing all over with burning fire.
Delmar caught hold of her left palm and pushed up the sleeve that fit snugly around the bubbled scars. Ajalia's lips felt numb;
her mind was replaying again and again the moment when he had pressed her up against his bare body. She bit her lips, and watched as Delmar spread the skin around the scars, making them pull tight.
Ajalia began to feel faint.
"Don't touch them," she whispered. Delmar hushed her, and pushed his fingers into the deepest and ugliest scar.
Ajalia gasped. She dropped the reins, and fell onto one knee, her free hand pressing into the cold rough stone of the road. Her left hand was extended up, clasped hard in Delmar's grip. Ajalia looked up in time to see a wisp of gold light drifting out of Delmar's face. The golden light twisted gently in the breeze before settling into Ajalia's scar tissue, and melting down into the flesh.
A feeling like molten sunlight passed through Ajalia's whole arm; she cried out. A searing, jolting pain settled down in her back. Her vision went white, and then blue.
Delmar was rubbing the skin all around the scars. Ajalia was in so much pain that her arm had become utterly numb. She saw Delmar's hands moving roughly up and down, but she could feel nothing. She watched him, her mind a blank. She wanted to get away, to escape the pain in her back, but she could find no part of herself that she knew within her brain. Her legs would not obey her.
Delmar pulled Ajalia up to her feet, and propped her up against the horse.
"Walk," he said. He picked up the reins; the horse, who had stood in indifference throughout the spectacle, gave an indignant snort, and followed Delmar willingly.
"I can't," Ajalia whispered. She felt supremely sorry for herself.
Delmar pulled the horse away; Ajalia clasped at the fastenings of the saddle, and dragged herself alongside the walking animal.
"Walking will help you," Delmar said. He was brusque and businesslike.
"What happened to you?" Ajalia demanded. "This is not like you."
"You don't know me," Delmar said. "Keep walking."
"You can't tell me what to do," Ajalia gasped. Her legs were alternating between behaving like stacks of jelly and jostling piles of disconnected bricks. She locked her fingers into the girth strap on the saddle, and tried to straighten her knees. She was pulling the horse's saddle a little to one side; the horse was pressing one ear back at her in annoyance, but she ignored the gelding. He lifted his left hind leg too high as he stepped forward, and Ajalia stopped pulling so hard. The horse blew loudly through his nose, and shook out his mane. Ajalia told herself that the horse was a jerk, but she almost smiled.