Lesson of the Fire

by Eric Zawadzki

  She did not like seeing Sven raging wildly like this, hurting those around him and seeing enemies where there were none. That had been Brand’s undoing, and it would be his. Katla knew she would have to contain Sven eventually. But his was a fire more easily extinguished than controlled, and Katla had sworn not to destroy her brother no matter what he did.

  An identifiable line marked the border between the stinger guer camp and the jabber guer one, but the increase in noise level was unmistakable. They were jabber guer because they always made noises. Sometimes they were speaking, but now, as they readied for sleep, it was the growing amount of uneven snoring that sounded like a cross between a cricket and an axe chopping wood. Katla passed by them without causing any stir.

  She had spoken to Bui Beglin, because what kind of a hero could a mundane make? The thick rural speech was difficult to comprehend at first, but his intelligence had surprised her. He and his small band would do what they could to stop the Mass, and Katla judged he would be enough of a thorn for the First Wave to make the commander do something stupid — like hole up until the Second Wave arrived less than a span later.

  Creating defensive positions would be fatal to the Mass, Katla knew. Oh, there were millions of Drakes coming in regular waves of thousands against a much smaller number of Mar. But they were not supernatural beasts. They had to eat, and drink, and defecate, and heal — one wave would strip a region to the ground. A second one in the same area at the same time would lead to smaller rations. A third one would beget starvation. When the Mass crashed against Domus, it would hurt itself as much as the weards who stood behind the walls.

  She thought this as she approached the palanquin that carried the Wave Commander. Guer of all shapes gave reports to the jabber guer, who responded eloquently. She pushed through them until she stood next to him. His head turned slowly to look at her, first with one eye, then the other.

  “Wave Commander, have you received word from the Delegates?”

  The Wave Commander was a jabber guer — a reptilian humanoid with a short, broad tail, strong legs built for jumping and three-fingered hands with bony wrist spikes. He spoke both Mar and Middling Gien, Katla had learned, but never in front of his troops. He spoke the Drake common tongue now.

  “Yee Ka Lah, I was about to send for you. The Delegates are disappointed you failed to kill Yee Seh Tah, but they have consented to meet with you.”

  Finally, she thought. I can teleport there and be back in a few days. “I will visit them directly.”

  “You must follow the appropriate path to visit the Delegates,” the Wave Commander said, gesturing to one of his adjutants. The jabber guer produced a large skin and handed it to him.

  Katla sniffed. The sickeningly sweet, faintly fermented smell was morutsen.

  “I will submit to the morutsen,” she said carefully, “before I visit with them.”

  “Yee Ka Lah will begin her regimen now.” The skin was thrust under her nose. “A messenger must return to the Delegates to say you are coming. You may not arrive before him. This is the only way your kind may visit the Delegates.”

  “It will take spans to walk there.” Who knows what will happen while I am away! She tried to keep complaint from her voice, but the Wave Commander grinned, showing three rows of sharp teeth.

  “It will take as long as it takes,” he said.

  Katla hesitated, remembering Brack’s travel-worn boots and cane, his long expeditions away from Tue Yee. She thought of all the Mar blood that could be spilled before she even reached the Delegates, and she felt renewed respect for Brack’s patience and fortitude.

  For the first time, she reconsidered her plan. Can I do this without talking to the Delegates? In the hundreds of square miles of Marrishland around her, four Waves poised to descend on Domus and all its innocents in the next few spans.

  But in the thousands of square miles to the north, more than a dozen Waves were massing. Isn’t the choice as simple as that? To save the many, a few must be sacrificed?

  Katla lowered her gaze respectfully and took the skin. “As you wish, Wave Commander.”

  * * *

  Erika Unschul neither owned nor desired a marsord. Despite claims that it was mostly a tool, she knew wizards seldom used it except to kill other Mar, and her parents had raised her better than that. But it seemed like everyone who served Sven wore one — even the yellow-garbed priests who stood guard in the citadel.

  Pondr does not, but he is not a Mar, so that doesn’t count.

  She adjusted the black apprentice’s cloak covering her sturdy, cotton pants and shirt. Some luxuries could be afforded the Mardux, and her clothing was one of the first things Erika had upgraded. Dux Ratsel of Wasfal had gifted her half of her wardrobe, from Mar-made leather belts, boots and vests to the fine Kafthaian cotton she wore. Smoothing her sleeves, she gestured that her visitor be brought in.

  The man the yellows brought to her was the first she had seen in months who didn’t have a marsord gouger peeking out from a slot in his cloak. She would have rather seen another marsord than a face that dredged up the memories his did, though.

  “Bui? Is that you?”

  He smiled sheepishly at her. “I’m that, Erika.”

  “I am glad to see you’re safe. Eda told me about what you have been doing for Sven. I have some soup.”

  Erika had tried to forget about Tortz. It was the first time Sven had killed other Mar and the place where he lost a part of himself that she had fallen in love with in Leiben. She had nearly lost him entirely. She had spent nearly a month certain he would be executed, in fact.

  Only Brand’s confession spared me that grief — a confession he would not have returned to make if Nightfire had not sent Katla and Robert to track and capture him.

  A wizard could not have done it, Erika knew. Even Sven’s reconnaissance spells were not as precise or far-reaching as the enchanter’s.

  Sven owes so much to Robert Wost, but he couldn’t forgive him for turning the people of Tortz into fawning slaves with his enchantment. That is forbidden by Vangard’s Rules of Governance. Sven collected proof and brought it to Nightfire, who had no choice but to dismiss Robert from the Academy.

  “I’ll take a little, yes,” Bui replied.

  Erika had eaten lunch only an hour ago, so she wasn’t hungry, either, but she went to the fireplace where a small pot hung and put a little soup in each bowl for hospitality’s sake. She glanced down at Asa where she lay curled up on a rug nearby, the flames flickering on her sleeping face.

  The only good thing to come of Tortz, Erika thought.

  “What brings you to me?” Erika asked when they had finished eating.

  “I need you to sen’ wizards to the Lapis Amnis up north — thousan’s of ‘em.”

  Erika’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

  Bui scratched his beard. “We’ve got to keep the Mass from crossin’ until the other wizards come back, an’ my twenty guerillas can’t fight hun’reds of thousan’s of Drakes.”

  She realized her mouth was open. “The Mass?”

  “Yes. That’s why you’ve trained all those weards I saw marchin’ aroun’ the city, right?”

  “They’re adepts,” she managed. “The Law was changed so mundanes could be taught magic, but I didn’t think Sven was preparing for the real Mass.”

  Bui stiffened while she spoke, and his face turned red. “’Depts? Mundanes usin’ magic? After Askr an’ the others died for doin’ that? After I atoned over an’ over for doin’ it? An’ now, anyone can use the myst?” He spat the last word.

  Erika shrank back at his vehemence.

  Bui unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. “The Mass is real, an’ it’s comin’. We don’t have much time, an’ I need all the help I can get to stop it.”

  Pondr had told Erika that Sven had used the threat of the Mass to convince the duxes to change the Law.

  Sven does not really believe in the Mass. Whatever he showed the duxes must have been some ruse. Other
wise he would not have left Domus Palus.

  “You’re volunteering to lead an army to fight the Mass?”

  He nodded. “Someone has to. All the big wizards are fightin’ Volun’, an’ none here believes me. The dux won’t even talk to me!”

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. “I believe you, Bui. I’ll take your case to Dux Verlren, but I need you to tell me everything you know.”

  Bui stared hard at her, and she stared back, as calm as she could.

  “You’re sayin’ he might not listen to you, either.”

  If he always thought it was real, he should already have a plan. If he knew about Sven’s lie, though, I will never convince him. She said nothing.

  “What’ll we do if he doesn’t?” Bui pressed.

  “I don’t know.”

  Please come home soon, my love.

  Bui spoke slowly. “There’re ways to fight wizards. I could teach some of these ‘depts how to do it.”

  “No!” Erika almost shouted, and Asa stirred on her rug. She lowered her voice. “No. We need the wizards’ help. There are only ten thousand adepts. That’s not enough to stop the whole Mass.”

  But we could train more, she thought. There are more than a hundred thousand Mar in Domus Palus. Surely they will fight the Mass to protect their homes and families.

  Bui simply nodded, but she could see the argument in his eyes. He would kill a few hundred wizards without hesitation if it would save a hundred thousand mundanes.

  I am not Bui. I am not Sven, either.

  “If Asa wakes up, tell her I’ll be back soon,” Erika said as she left the room to find the dux.

  “We must strengthen the city’s defenses, Dux Verlren,” Erika told the Dux of Piljerka.

  Yver Verlren looked up from the book he was reading, his eyes speaking volumes about the gap between his red cloak and her black. Having so asserted his superior wisdom, he returned to his reading.

  Erika gritted her teeth. Yver was a dux. He had power. She was merely an apprentice who had been neglecting her education for nearly two years.

  “You are as stubborn as the Mardux.”

  Yver finished the page, dog-eared it and closed the book.

  “You forget yourself, apprentice. In the absence of the Mardux or a designated seneschal, the highest-ranking wizard sits regent over Domus Palus.”

  “The Mass is coming. We will need the aid of every magic-wielder in Domus Palus, Dux Verlren. We need to train more adepts — tens of thousands more.”

  “Domus Palus has withstood centuries of Drake invasions without need of additional defenses, Erika. Go tend your daughter. This is not your concern.”

  “Sven would not approve of your squandering the only advantage we have.”

  “The Mardux,” Yver emphasized the title, “ordered the formation of the adepts to deal with this invasion that frightens you so. Ten thousand is more than adequate.” His small smile chilled her blood.

  He knows about Sven’s ruse.

  Erika plucked the book out of his hands and hurled it out a window, eyes gleaming in a challenge beyond her black apprentice’s cloak. “Sven’s vision is far from perfect, whatever you believe. The gods may guide him, but they can guide us as well. We can’t waste time reading books when the enemy will soon be at the gates!”

  He stood, calling Power to bring the book back to his hands. “Because you are the Mardux’s wife, I will not harm you. If you were my apprentice, however, I would punish such insubordination. Clearly Mardux Takraf has been far too busy to properly discipline his apprentices.”

  “Please. This is no raid. The Mass — the real Mass — approaches Domus Palus. You must make more adepts and bring the wizards back to Domus Palus.”

  “We lost contact with them some time ago. Either they are out of range of our reconnaissance, or they are so spread out as to be virtually undetectable.”

  “What of Flasten’s army?”

  He shook his head. “Even if we knew where they were, we would hardly open our gates to an enemy force.”

  “This is a bad time for a civil war. The Mass has nearly crossed the Fens of Reur! The Mardux does not want a slaughter. I know that.”

  “Enough! This is none of your concern. Do not attempt to manipulate me by invoking the name of your husband. His power is not yours to command in his absence. You have no more authority here than one of the adepts.”

  She stiffened as though slapped. She held up her right hand. “Of course, Dux Verlren. Sorry to have troubled you with my mundane concerns.”

  He had already returned to his book.

  She left him to his delusions and madness. Less than a thousand wizards remained in Domus Palus, and many were priests loyal to Horsa. By Sven’s decree, more than ten thousand mundanes had begun training as adepts in a city with well over a hundred thousand mundane citizens.

  If Sven will not protect Domus Palus and his family, I will.

  Chapter 33

  “Tordyn (tor dynamics) is the study of how Mar wizards influence the myst. Each wizard’s tor has strengths and weaknesses when it comes to wielding the myst. One might find the myst moves toward her eagerly, but she struggles to shape it into complex patterns. Another can call the myst for a long time before it ceases to obey, but he cannot hold a large amount close to him. Self-improvement by practice alone takes years, but tordyn scholars have found techniques that ease the learning process if they are practiced properly.”

  — Weard Oda Kalidus,

  The Origin of Nothing

  Sven crouched in the swamp near Nightfire’s Academy and studied his hands. He had had time to think about why he was here and what he was doing.

  He was not looking forward to the next step, but he could see no way to avoid it. The gods had supported his desire to create the adepts. Otherwise, one of the Council would have seen through his ruse.

  But they’ll eventually find out, and the wands will only make them more suspicious.

  In order to protect them, Sven needed to remove all potential threats to this future army of Marrishland. He must protect the future of the Mar, his Mar. What he had been and what he became were nothing compared to that.

  Are my hands big enough to take on this task? He still felt the sting from where he had hit Erika, and his eyes watered with tears again. This is the only way I can prove to her I am doing the right thing.

  Sliding on a pair of gloves and drawing his marsord, he teleported again.

  * * *

  “Erika, I should not do what you ask of me. We Travellers are welcome wherever we go because we do not involve ourselves in local politics.”

  She filled his bowl with soup and handed it to him. “This isn’t about politics, Pondr. You cannot get out of the path of the Mass before it reaches Domus Palus.

  He accepted the bowl warily. “Of course. My life depends on your conspiracy, doesn’t it?”

  She picked up a second bowl for herself. “Unless you believe six hundred wizards can defeat three million Drakes, yes.”

  He sighed. “Where will I even find so much stored in one place?”

  She blew gently on the soup to cool it. “Healers use it to ease pain and prevent sick wizards from hurting themselves. Go to the temple and ask after Weard Salt. Her reconnaissance should be able to see the Mass by now, and that should convince her of the necessity.”

  He tried to take a sip of the soup and burned his tongue. He sighed. “Why not send one of the adepts instead?”

  “An adept is still treated like a mundane, while a Traveller is welcomed like a Traveller.” She looked around the room furtively. “Try to keep your true business secret until you meet Weard Salt. We do not want to cause a panic.”

  He nodded and sipped his soup. Erika sighed and filled a third bowl. She stood up and went down the hall to a second guest chamber, where the Mar from Tortz waited. The man who stalled an army. His twenty stopped Flasten’s twenty thousand for days. What can he do with a few hundred against a hundred
thousand?

  “Bui, have you considered my proposal?” She handed him the bowl.

  Bui Beglin nodded. “We’ll do what we can to slow the Mass, if that’s what the Mardux wants. It’ll be hard to train others so fast, but I’ll try.”

  Erika handed him a pair of leather gloves with a metal stud at the tip of each finger. “I’ll give these to as many of the adepts as I can. It’s clumsy compared to one of Sven’s, but it will allow even a weak magic-wielder to set proper traps. I’ll teach some of the adepts here how to make them so we can replace the ones your adepts use up. I wish I could provide you with faster transportation, but the wizards seem intent upon saving their magic for a final confrontation with the Mass.”

  “These ‘dept’s’ll need to walk fast to stay ahead of the Drakes. This’ll teach ‘em quicker.”

  “May the gods watch over you, Bui.”

  “You needn’t worry ‘bout that, Erika. They will.” Bui raised his right hand in salute and left the room.

  Hopefully, that will buy us time. I wish we could have sent him with the ten thousand adepts I promised, but even he said we need the rest here. With Pondr’s supplies, the new adepts should be ready for action before the Mass crosses the Lapis Amnis.

  Erika hated doing this as much as she hated that Sven had started a war between the Mar. She was not as powerful as Sven, so she had to find other ways of protecting the people of Domus Palus — in order to protect her husband. Whom she had every right to be mad at, but still could not throw to the guer.

  At least my way, no one will be hurt.

  Pondr grunted when Erika returned to fill another bowl for her daughter, who was reading in the library.

  I think she spends as much time reading as Sven did when he was at the Academy.

  She allowed herself a small smile.

  * * *

  Robert and Ari wore dark green cloaks as they wandered into Leiben after Einar had quietly dismantled all its defenses. The wizards and a sizable entourage of controlled citizens gathered on the green where Sven and Erika had been wed.

  “The rest of your dear Protectorates have little hope now that you have chosen to serve me, Weard Schwert.”

  Einar recoiled, and Robert laughed. “Time to make more wands, Weard Schwert.”

  He nodded and did as he was told.

  Ari followed Robert back to his tent.

  “The Mardux will miss Einar. He must already suspect what is happening.”