Magician In Captivity: Power of Poses - Book Three

by Guy Antibes

  One, or even two magicians didn’t worry her, but four? She shook her head slightly, but not enough to significantly change the shield. A bolt of lightning shot up and glittered as it hit her shield. Then all four magicians bathed her door with fire. When Valanna felt the fire lessen and then stop, she quickly assumed the wind pose and escaped their trap.

  What a fool, she thought, as she continued to accelerate in the air. All of a sudden a Vashtan appeared on the door. They had teleported right onto her conveyance, making it tilt and wobble in the air. She turned and blew the Vashtan off. Valanna didn’t bother to see if the magician teleported back to the ground or fell to his death. She zigged and zagged, not knowing if such a maneuver would keep the Vashtans from attempting to land on her flyer again.

  The door dipped down, and three magicians stood on the ground far below her, as she created another shield.

  A Vashtan appeared on the other side of her shield and slid off, falling far below. Perhaps they couldn’t save themselves with teleportation if they fell. She didn’t care. There still were two, but she now knew a way to defeat them.

  She let them lower her flyer, and just as they came into view, she pulled out the knife she still carried in her boot and used it like a wand, incinerating the defenseless wizards who foolishly held on to the descent pose. The door bounced on the dirt, knocking Valanna off.

  She quickly inspected her victims and saw two packs lying on the ground beside the two dead magicians. Valanna grabbed them and took her flyer back up into the sky. This time she headed south again for a bit and then due west.

  Flying over mountains required patience, since the lift spell didn’t adjust for changes in the contour of the ground, so she had to invoke the climbing spell time and time again to rise enough. She was so tired, but Warish never looked better to her. She headed north as soon as she crossed over the western foothills. She figured that she could sleep in peace, so she set the door down outside of a town. She rummaged around in the magicians’ bags and found money purses. The Pestlan gold pieces would be accepted anywhere in Warish, so she decided she would sleep in a bed.

  Valanna covered the door with brush in a little wood and walked into town, carrying one of the packs. She walked into an inn.

  “I’d like a room tonight,” she said in Warish.

  “Aren’t you in the wrong country, girl?” the innkeeper said in Pestlan.

  After turning bright red, Valanna blinked her eyes. “I thought I had wandered into Warish. Doesn’t the border go through the mountains?” Her breath began to shorten as the magnitude of her blunder brought a shock of fear.

  “It does, but this is Goldenrod Valley. The border runs along the next set of ridges just to the west of here.”

  The innkeeper looked at Valanna with narrowed eyes. “Are you an advanced scout of the Warish Army?”

  Valanna backed away. “Do I look like one? All I want is a room.” She said as casually as she could.

  She got a smile in return. “Settle down. I don’t know how you got this far without getting lost, but you hardly look like one of those Ferezan warriors we hear about. If you’ve got the coin, you’ve got a room, and even a nice hot bath. Have you been on the road for long?”

  Valanna fought for composure. “I’m a student at the University of Pestle. My boyfriend and I decided to take a walking tour of the western side of Pestle, but we had a falling out a few days ago. He ended up being not quite the boyfriend I thought he was." She shook her head with mock dismay. “I hope there is some way I can get back over the mountains.”

  “There is post carriage that comes through here every week or two. I suppose you can stay here until it arrives in a few days,” the innkeeper said. “Where do you think your boyfriend is?”

  Valanna just shrugged.

  “Don’t care, eh? I don’t blame you. It will be four silver badgers for room and meals per day. A gold for five days in advance, if you don’t mind. If you don’t have the money, I can put you to work.”

  Valanna looked the innkeeper in the eye. “Money is not a problem.” She put a golden eagle on the desk. “Five days, you say?”

  The innkeeper’s eyes lit up. “Five days, and I’ll throw in a daily bath, should you desire.” He slid a key on a large wooden fob across the counter. A number six had been burned into the wood.

  “Room six is where?”

  “Up the stairs and to your right. The evening meal is about ready, so once you’ve stowed your bags and washed up, bathroom’s further down the hall, come on down. We serve beef stew tonight.”

  ~

  The meal wouldn’t meet Esmera’s standards, not by a long ways, but Valanna tucked it all away. The inn only had one common room, so she had sat in the back of the room, with her back to the wall, watching who came in.

  Four middle-aged men, dressed like farmers walked in and sat down a table away from Valanna and ordered ale. The serving maid brought another mug out for Valanna. She sipped and found the drink rather nice.

  “The invasion won’t be long, I hear,” one of the farmers said. “I can’t wait. Anything to get Harl off the throne.”

  “I hear you,” another said after he had taken a good-sized draught. “Taxes, taxes, taxes. We don’t see none of the benefit out here, other than the post.”

  The other men muttered similar sayings. Clearly, King Harl’s rule frustrated the common farmer. Valanna wondered how many other farmers, merchants, and innkeepers in Pestle voiced similar feelings. She’d never heard such talk in Pestledown, but then she had frequented more genteel places or had been captured and conversed with King Harl’s cronies.

  None of their comments related to the abolition of magic throughout the realm, and that had affected Valanna and even Trak the most.

  Her eyes began to droop when three Vashtans entered the inn. The friendly babble of the patrons stopped. Valanna shrunk in her seat. She didn’t dare get up and run for her room but slowly pulled the hood up on her cloak to cover her golden hair.

  The magicians ignored her and sat down. They ordered food in the silence of the room and muttered foreign words. Valanna didn’t know the language, and it looked like the inn’s customers didn’t like the magicians speaking in Vashtan.

  Valanna wondered if she could stand slowly enough to strike a pose. If she destroyed the Vashtans, what would the patrons do? She put her hand to her forehead and pulled her chin down to hide, but not far enough that she couldn’t observe the magicians.

  One of them scanned the room. His eyes stopped when he saw her.

  Valanna’s stomach flipped over, and she stood. Defensively she struck a shield pose as the two men and one woman rose and began to assault her with fire and lightning.

  The farmers fled to the sides of the room, but Valanna noted that none of them had left the common room. She didn’t know what that meant, but she knew her shield would last longer than the Vashtan offensive spells. Their assault began to sputter, and then stopped. Valanna would like to use wind, but used the knife the inn had provided for her stew meat to spit out bolts of lightning. Pulses. She thanked Trak for the innovations as the three magicians assumed weak shields, and Valanna’s bolts eventually made it through their defenses until they crumpled to the ground.

  Out of energy and weak from the fight, she sat down heavily on the bench and leaned against the wall.

  One of the farmers began to clap, and soon the entire room cheered for her performance.

  “On the house,” the innkeeper said. “Those damned foreigners have been coming through here for the last six months as if they owned the place. One of them killed my uncle and his family on the other side of the valley when the magicians demanded horses for free.”

  “I didn’t know any Pestlan magicians still lived,” one of the farmers said. “but I’m glad to know one is still around.” The others nodded their heads.

  Valanna pursed her lips, and then said. “Few do. I’ve been in hiding all my life. I fought in the Santasian civil war and learned a f
ew things." That would have to do as an explanation.

  “If the Warishians would send over their magicians and wipe out the black buggers, we’d be all for an invasion,” the innkeeper said.

  “I don’t think there will be much of an invasion,” Valanna said. She didn’t know if she violated state secrets, but she continued. “There aren’t that many Warishian soldiers.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” a farmer said. “Anything would be better than King Harl.”

  The inn erupted in agreement as the three bodies were dragged out.

  Valanna stood and walked over to the bar. The innkeeper stood polishing a glass.

  “May I still stay the night?”

  The innkeeper smiled. “Your stay is free.” His hand went below the bar and Valanna tensed, but the innkeeper slapped a golden eagle on the bar and slid it towards her.

  ~

  Valanna left the next morning with fresh provisions, a bath and a good night’s sleep. No one asked her where she headed on foot. She quickly found her door and lifted off, heading west. She avoided farmhouses and another small town. On the way, she thought long about the reaction of the people at the inn. King Marom’s strategy seemed ripe for implementation. If remote farmers felt that a change was needed, then the Warish wouldn’t have any problem deposing King Harl, but now she sensed a race between the Vashtan coup and Marom’s takeover.

  Before midday, she went over the second set of mountains. These were higher than the first, and Valanna finally looked over at the significantly more arid-looking Warishian lands below. She slid the flyer nearer to the ground, still avoiding any farms or settlements. If Vashtan magicians were constantly moving through the inn, that probably meant they were active in southern Warish. She headed due north after a few hours in the country and hoped to reach Balbaam sometime the next day.

  ~~~

  Chapter Seventeen

  ~

  MORI TOOK THE TIME TO LEAD TRAK, TEMBUL, AND SIRUL on short expeditions out into the city. She had provided them with Bennin-style clothes and light, hooded rain cloaks like a number of the men wore when walking in the streets. Trak still saw a few of the straw-bundle capes he had used at the mines.

  He liked the open architecture of the city with the wide, overhanging tile roofs, ready to shed the frequent rain showers that made the city steamy after a warm day.

  The rain cloaks helped keep their nationalities secret when they strolled through markets and sat in open-air restaurants, but they still couldn’t go inside where politeness dictated the shedding of the rain gear.

  Mori picked up food from the local stalls and distributed rice balls, fried fish, and vegetables wrapped in large edible leaves to the visitors. The cuisine differed from what Mori generally gave them, which consisted of vegetable soups and rice. The spices seemed similar, and Trak enjoyed sucking in the foreign culture despite their furtive movements.

  Six days after meeting with Jojo, Mori took them closer to Beniko Castle. The structure had been built on a man-made hill faced with stone. Walkways circled up towards the castle itself. Trak noticed that the actual buildings began a few stories higher than the ground level. Nearly flat tile roofs of many colors and sizes made the castle look like a jumble of structures from up close, but from most vantage points away from the castle, they created a pyramid, with the top tower thrusting up nearly eight stories into the air by Trak’s estimation.

  The Toryan princess served as a slave somewhere inside that building. Trak wondered how he would ever find her.

  “Psst!” Sirul clutched Trak’s arm. “There is Lenis.”

  “Don’t point,” Tembul said, pulled down Sirul’s hand.

  The four of them observed Lenis walking out of the ground-level gate of the castle together with a familiar face.

  “Paka is with him,” Trak said.

  “Paka?” Mori narrowed her eyes.

  “You know him by a different name?” Tembul said.

  Mori nodded. “Hokono. He is a minion of the current ruling clique.”

  Trak pursed his lips. “Hokono,” he repeated. “He posed on board ship as a guide and interpreter, but Lenis and he deserted us early on.” Trak watched them gesture with their hands as they talked about something seemingly urgent. “Maybe we should follow them.”

  “Perhaps Jomio already has.” Mori’s eyes scanned the square. “It’s time for us to head back to my house. I think I need to share this information with Jomio.”

  ~

  Trak paced down in the basement by himself. Tembul and Sirul’s skill with teleportation hadn’t improved, and they both trudged up the stairs to rest after a session transporting any number of small things, including their rabbits. Tembul couldn’t transport one rabbit very far, and Sirul still had to hold onto Tembul to transport anything. Their efforts wore their powers down after only a few attempts.

  Trak sat down on an old rickety chair and leaned over with his palms cupping his chin. He looked up the stairs, and then back at the rabbits, quiet in their cage.

  He took a deep breath and stood. He imagined the pipe and willed himself to the other side of the room. He staggered as his vision of the room changed abruptly. After examining his arms and hands for any issues, Trak smiled. He had moved himself. What if he went upstairs?

  After clenching and unclenching his fists a few times as he worked up the courage, he closed his eyes and willed himself up to his bedroom. Sunlight lit up his eyelids, and he opened them up on the third floor of the house. He walked over to Tembul and Sirul’s bedroom. Tembul took a nap with an arm over his eyes.

  “I’ve done it,” Trak said quietly. “From the basement to my bedroom.”

  Tembul sat up, shaking off his weariness. “Show me.”

  “Wait.” Trak left the room and then teleported into Tembul’s bedroom.

  The Toryan’s mouth dropped. “In the blink of an eye.” He looked at Trak dumbfounded. “I wouldn’t dare try it.”

  “You would with someone who had more power than Sirul. Rest up a bit, and you can try. It’s only from one bedroom to the other.”

  Tembul shuddered. “The orange that shriveled moved only a few paces.”

  “Remember, it’s the pipe.” Trak couldn’t help but give the Toryan a grin. “I’ll be right back.” He closed his eyes and found himself back in the basement. He pumped a fist in the air and returned to Tembul’s room. “I’m okay. My magic is still strong,” he said.

  “Your magic. I’d be passed out.”

  “We will try it out. Don’t tell Sirul. I want to surprise him.” Trak went back to the basement, wondering where he could go next?

  He visualized the approach to Beniko’s city walls and transported to the very spot where he had stood a few weeks ago. He looked quickly around to see if anyone had noticed his instant arrival. No one had, so he ripped a little branch off of a nearby bush and teleported back into his bedroom.

  “Here.” His statement almost came out as a laugh. Trak felt giddy when he tossed the branch to Tembul. “I went outside the city and back.”

  Tembul squinted at Trak. “Use some judgment. You might end up inside the city wall or run into something that acts as a barrier to teleportation.”

  Trak sat on Tembul’s bed. “Could there be such a thing?”

  “Shields stop magic. Why wouldn’t they do the same with some kind of a teleportation spell?”

  The rashness of his act finally sunk in. “I could have bounced off a shield, huh?”

  Tembul nodded. “You certainly could. We should try all sorts of things before you go moving all over the place.” The Toryan shook his head. “I have to admit, for the first time I’m jealous of your power. I could quickly move all over Torya.”

  “Find a powerful partner,” Trak said. “Tomorrow use me to test your ability.”

  Tembul lay back down. “I will.”

  Trak looked down at the Toryan. Tembul could loosen up just a bit to join in a celebration of his success.

  ~

  Borrowi
ng from Trak’s power, Tembul teleported from the basement to the third floor a few times after he mastered moving from one side of the basement to another, and then he went to the same spot where Trak had gone outside the city wall.

  After returning, the pair of them stood in the basement. Tembul swayed after the use of so much of his own energy. “Sirul doesn’t help,” Tembul said, “but you do. I can feel the spell sap my energy, but I couldn’t do this more than a few times, even holding on to your hand.”

  Trak rubbed his chin. “I suspected as much. We keep this a secret between us.”

  “And Sirul?”

  Sirul and Trak had already tried to move in the basement, but the spell didn’t work. “We tell him that we can move from place to place in the basement.”

  “Some of the truth,” Tembul said, nodding. “I agree. When I return to Torya, I’ll find a suitable partner.”

  They heard the door opening and closing upstairs and went up to find Mori, Nashi and Jojo sitting on the floor of the dining room, sharing a basket of food.

  “Where were you?” Jojo said.

  “We were practicing in the basement,” Trak said.

  Jojo smiled, just a little. “I hope you are improving.”

  “In our own way, at our own pace,” Tembul said.

  Jojo looked at Trak and nodded. “Now as to your friend.” Jojo took a bite of grilled chicken on a wooden skewer. “Lenis has been a very busy boy. Hokono has introduced him to the highest level of our bureaucracy, where he has been negotiating for the release of the Toryan princess.”

  “Has he been successful?” Tembul said.

  Nashi smiled sardonically. “He is still a foreigner, no matter who he speaks to, and they disregard him as a serious person. He hasn’t learned much Benninese, but Hokono serves as his interpreter.” He shrugged. “I heard that they are extracting information from Lenis about the Toryan situation and the results of the Santasian civil war.”

  Trak scoffed. “He only fought in a few skirmishes against the Kandannans. How would he know what went on in Santasia?”