It took Jemeryl a moment to understand what was intended. “Hey! Don’t I get a trial?”
The captain did not bother replying. He was engaged in knitting the sixth dimensional tensors into a power vortex. With a throwing action, he impelled the elemental rift towards Jemeryl. If it hit, it would result in a relatively quick, although very painful death. Fortunately, the attack was easy for a sorcerer to dispel. Jemeryl set up a counter-flow current and the energies discharged in a dazzling shower of sparks, ten feet from where she stood.
For three long seconds everyone on the parade ground was frozen in shock. Jemeryl opened her mouth, about to try taking control of the situation, when she sensed a new attack. One of the witches behind had launched a hail of ion darts at her. Jemeryl quickly raised a shield. Again, she averted the strike, but now the other witches had recovered from their surprise and were summoning their skills. Many of the ungifted soldiers were also charging into the attack, drawing their weapons.
The display of stupidity stunned Jemeryl. Surely everyone must realise that they had made a mistake and that it was time to talk? Individually, she could easily overpower anyone there, but surrounded and under attack from all sides, she was going to have to fight in earnest. Yet, still, she tried to make one last plea for common sense.
“Wait, I—”
The two witches standing beside the captain joined in opening a conduit through the fifth dimension, trying to rip her aura to shreds. Jemeryl had no time to defuse it safely. She diverted the flow away from her, but the wild shot flipped towards the corner of the parade ground where the ion darts had originated. The witch standing there had attacked through the sixth dimension, so it was no surprise that she was blind to the fifth and could not defend herself or those near her. Screams echoed around the compound. Jemeryl repelled another two bolts aimed at her, and again the deflected charges found defenceless targets.
Even then, the attackers did not stop. The ungifted fighters would be on her in an instant. With no time for anything non-lethal, Jemeryl hauled on the power tensors, focusing the energies. The nearest soldiers were smashed aside, crumpled and broken. She sent another burst towards the captain and his attendants. He was able to ground the discharge, but the subsequent explosion knocked all three of them off their feet. Now, at last, people started to retreat. The ungifted soldiers were the first.
The captain scrambled up and shouted, “Keep her pinned down. I’ll be back.” He dived through the doorway behind him.
The witches tried to follow his order. Jemeryl knew that she did not have the option to subdue them gently. Some of Mavek’s creations could cause problems, even for a sorcerer. Whatever the captain had gone for, she dare not passively await his return. The captain’s two attendants had used a fifth dimensional attack. Beneath them both, Jemeryl tore open drains in the elemental plane. The heat gushed from their bodies and they fell as frozen shells.
A final suicidal group of ungifted soldiers closed on her. Jemeryl blasted them to ash and looked around. The remaining witch had fled. No one, apart from herself, was still standing in the parade ground, although screams and groans came from several of the fallen figures. Jemeryl raced after the captain.
The room she entered was clearly an administration office. She stopped and listened. A voice was speaking in the room to her right. Jemeryl pushed open the door and stepped through.
The captain was hunched over a table. “—must be a sorcerer. Yes, red hair. She just arrived in Redezth. We didn’t—No, she’s here!” The last three words were delivered as a panicked cry. He lifted a crossbow that had been lying on the table.
Jemeryl was very sure that it was no ordinary weapon. Before the crossbow could be aimed at her, she attacked. For an instant the captain was wreathed in green static and then he collapsed without a sound. The sudden silence was shocking.
Jemeryl’s knees felt weak. How many people had she just killed? She stumbled to the table. A message orb lay in the middle of a sheet of satin cloth. Who had the captain been talking to? And could she explain that what had happened here was not her fault? Without stopping to think, Jemeryl focused her attention on the orb.
Mavek wavered into view. The blacksmith was not in the castle. Grassland reached to the horizon behind him, covered with soldiers and attendants setting camp.
“You!” Contempt filled Mavek’s voice.
“Mavek. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t want your apologies.”
“It wasn’t—”
He cut her off again. His eyes grew wild, frenzied in anger. “What I want is to see you grovelling on your knees. I want to have your heart beating in my hand and squeeze the life out of it. I want to hear you squeal like a pig.”
He hated her. Was she surprised? Confronted by his hostility—his quite justifiable hostility—Jemeryl felt herself grow calmer. There were things she had to say to him.
“Mavek, what I did to you was unforgivable, I know. You must believe that I’m truly sorry. But surely you remember what it’s like when you lost your partner. I’d just heard about Tevi. I wasn’t in my right mind. I’m...”
Mavek was no longer listening. His face had crumpled and he began sobbing. “Kenan. I’ve got to get Kenan back. You’ve got to give me the talisman.”
“It won’t work.”
“It will, for both of us. You have to give it to me. We won’t be alone. Nothing will...” Tears streamed down his face.
Jemeryl watched him in appalled pity. Her own eyes started to fill. “Mavek. The talisman isn’t safe. It won’t work. It will just kill more people and leave thousands of others like us, without the people they love. We can’t do that.”
Mavek’s mood flipped again to sneering sarcasm. “Like you care about anyone other than yourself.”
“I do. Just now, the people I killed here. I didn’t want to, but they attacked me. I had no choice. You have to give up on the talisman before more people get killed.”
“Never. I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth. And it doesn’t matter what happens, because when I get the talisman I’ll put it all to right. And then I’ll have Kenan back, and we’ll...” He was sobbing like a three-year-old again.
Jemeryl loosened the ties in the ether and the message orb returned to rest. Mavek was seriously deranged. The soul shredding had left him unbalanced, and it was her fault. Everything was her fault.
*
On the outskirts of Redezth, heading south, Jemeryl passed what was unmistakably an inn. The frontage was shabby and unwelcoming, but daylight was fading fast and she might as well stop. None of the surviving soldiers had made any attempt to intercept her when she left the compound. She doubted that they would organize a pursuit of her. At least not until Mavek got there. Jemeryl was sure that he would be on the way.
Jemeryl dismounted in the rubbish-strewn yard behind the inn. The overweight landlord appeared after a lengthy wait. She scowled at the small silver coin offered, but shouted at a stable hand to take care of the horse and then led Jemeryl to a room on the upper floor.
“Will you be wanting a meal?”
Jemeryl shook her head. “No, I ate earlier.”
Judging by her expression, the landlord thought that Jemeryl had done it as a personal insult to herself. Jemeryl wondered what the response would be if she also admitted that she was lying.
“If you want a drink, the tap room is downstairs.”
Jemeryl could have guessed as much from the rumble of loud voices beneath her feet. Once the landlord had gone, she lay on the creaking bed and closed her eyes. There was no likelihood of sleep. Quite apart from the turmoil in her head, the voices from the tap room were clear enough to hear every word.
“Have you heard about over at the fort?”
“A massacre, Ronny was telling me.”
“Hundreds dead, burnt, maimed.”
“It’s awful.”
“Who was it?”
“A rogue sorcerer gone berserk.”
“What I heard, it’s the same one who murdered the old hag, Bykoda.”
“Probably going to set herself up as the new Empress.”
“So we swap one murdering bitch for another?”
“Bykoda never went around killing without cause.”
“She wasn’t blameless.”
“Never said she was. But this one’s worse.” A general round of agreement followed.
“Oh well, I’m off home while I’ve still got one to go to.”
“Me too.”
After several boisterous good-byes, the noise below dropped to a soft murmur. Some locals remained, but the loudmouths had gone. Jemeryl swung her feet off the bed and sat up. She felt sick. Obviously the drinkers in the bar had not connected her with the evil sorcerer on the rampage. She wanted to run downstairs and explain that it was not her fault. She was trying to protect them. She was not evil.
But maybe they were right. She had taken part in a massacre. And she was to blame. How could she have been so stupid as to ride past a squad of soldiers, disguised as a deserter? If she had given it a moment’s thought, she would have known to take a detour, or make herself invisible, or do anything that showed the faintest trace of intelligence.
Jemeryl curled forwards, overwhelmed by guilt. Everything she did only made things worse. She had treated Mavek with unforgivable savagery. She did not blame him for hating her. She had killed dozens of innocent soldiers. She had not saved Tevi.
Her shoulders shook with sobs. She was going through hell, trying to save the people downstairs, and they did not appreciate it. She could not go on as she was. She needed advice and only one person could help. She had to talk it over with Tevi.
Jemeryl pulled the talisman from her shirt. It swung before her eyes on its chain, taunting her. What options did she have? Mavek would be after her. He now knew where she was. One on one, she could defeat him and any of his followers. But as the recent battle had shown, when the odds started to stack up, even witches could pose a threat. She had got through this time unscathed partly because she had caught them by surprise. If they had known what she was from the start and coordinated their attack, things might have been a bit trickier.
When Mavek caught up with her, he would have dozens of witches under his command, and all of his weaponry armed and ready. The chances of her winning the battle were not good, and the slaughter in the compound would be nothing by comparison. Yet even this would be utterly insignificant next to what would happen if Mavek tried to use the talisman and it ruptured.
In all honesty, Jemeryl knew that she could not keep the talisman safe. She had to use it. Yes, it might cause massive devastation, but the odds were better if she was the one making the attempt. Even if the device was unflawed, Mavek would not be able to control its power. Not least because he was no longer of sound mind. Thousands were going to die, regardless of what she did. The people downstairs thought she was an evil murdering bitch, so why not act like one? And she needed to see Tevi.
Jemeryl swept her mind clear of the chaos and focused on the talisman, dismissing a flicker of complaint from Klara. The layers of the talisman opened as her senses probed deeper. The contours in time began to twist and resolve themselves. The links through the temporal currents acquired form and clarity. Tentatively she gathered in a few and examined them. She could see where to go. Like so many of Bykoda’s inventions, it was breathtakingly simple.
The crash of the door downstairs shattered Jemeryl’s concentration. Her contact with the talisman broke and she sat up, angry at the thoughtless interruption, and the shoddy inn design. How stupid to have bedrooms over the tap room.
“Hey! Have you heard the news?”
“The fight in the compound? You’re too late.”
“We were all talking about it earlier.”
The first person spoke again, excited. “No. A rider just came in from Uzhenek. They had a dragon down there a few days back.”
“Dragons!”
Jemeryl had been about to raise a shield to block out the irritating voices. She stopped. Another dragon. Was it just a coincidence?
The new arrival went on. “Folk were being burnt and ripped apart, and the whole town was about to be destroyed. But then a hero showed up. Damn near killed the dragon and sent it running.”
“Who was it?”
“No one knows for sure. A woman. They say she has the strength of ten.”
Jemeryl’s hand tightened around the talisman, but her eyes were no longer on it. Her head and heart were reeling between distrust and euphoria. Did she dare to believe that it might be Tevi?
*
The sunset was flaring to red on the horizon when Jemeryl caught her first sight of Uzhenek from the rim of the valley. As she grew closer, the light faded, swallowing the city before her eyes. By the time she stood on the bridge over the Kladjishe, the mass of squalid huts was just a darker patch of shadow on the valley floor, except for a few dozen torches, snapping in the cold wind. The lights served only to suggest the scale of the city. No clustering or order was apparent, indicating buildings of importance or main thoroughfares.
She can’t be here. It isn’t her. The words repeated in Jemeryl’s head, as they had since she left Redezth. But the attempt to keep her hopes in check was futile. No matter how much she tried to prepare herself for the blow, Jemeryl knew that she would not be able to bear the pain if the hero turned out not to be Tevi.
Her horse’s head was sagging, its hooves falling heavy on the road. She had made the journey from Redezth in two days, a hard ride even with the assistance of magic. Jemeryl suspected that she was nearly as exhausted as her horse, but she was too tense to be able to tell. Learning that Tevi was dead had been the worst experience of her life, and she was terrified that she was about to go through it all over again.
She can’t be here. It isn’t her.
As she reached the first torch on the outskirts of Uzhenek, Jemeryl saw four soldiers gathered in the light. Blue and black bands were knotted around their biceps and hung from the shafts of their spears, clearly the token of whoever was now in charge of the town. Jemeryl had abandoned the remnants of the deserter’s uniform, and the sentries paid her little attention until she reined in her horse beside them.
“Excuse me. Is there any chance of meeting...” Jemeryl paused, not wanting to say Tevi’s name aloud, as if giving voice to the possibility would deepen its power to destroy her. Her hopes rested on no more than the coincidence of a dragon and a strong woman.
“The Dragon Slayer?” One soldier finished the sentence for her. The woman grinned. “You’ll see her, all right. She walks around and talks to folk. Doesn’t stay hidden. Just keep your eyes open tomorrow.”
Jemeryl swallowed and nodded. She could not wait until tomorrow, but she was not going to make a fuss. She did not need an audience to watch her break down when she found out that the Dragon Slayer was a stranger. At her urging, the horse plodded on.
Uzhenek was a shantytown. It did not deserve the name of city and never had, even when Bykoda was alive. Back then, her phantom citadel had cast a glamour over the site. Now the ethereal towers were gone, but the filth and the squalor remained. Overcrowding had been added to the mix. Refugees slept on the streets, huddling in whatever shelter they could find.
The townsfolk were marginally better off in their decrepit huts made of straw and dung. But surely these hovels would not be good enough for the heroic Dragon Slayer. Only one part of Uzhenek might provide suitable accommodation. Jemeryl steered her horse through the dark town towards the centre where the citadel had once stood.
The road she was on rose steadily until she emerged from the tightly packed slums onto the open hilltop. More soldiers were in evidence here, as well as large gangs of townsfolk. Jemeryl slipped off her horse and caught the reins. Several bonfires were burning on the hilltop with excited figures clustered around. Jemeryl started to approach the nearest but then stopped. What should she do? Demand to be taken to the Dragon Slayer? Now th
at she was so close, panic was threatening to overwhelm her. She might be within minutes of discovering that the hero was not Tevi.
She can’t be here. It isn’t her.
A faint commotion was going on some way off to her right, but getting closer. People at the bonfire turned to look. An undisciplined gang was crossing the hilltop, diffuse and turbulent on the outside, tighter and calmer closer in. Whoever was at the middle was hidden by the throng.
Jemeryl stared at the approaching mob, certain that the Dragon Slayer was at hand. Who else could it be? For an instant, a gap in the surrounding crowd opened, but all Jemeryl had time to see was an embroidered blue surcoat, glittering in the light from the bonfire. The gap closed again and hid the figure from view. Was it Tevi?
Jemeryl took a step forwards, ready to summon her magic and get her answer, when the crowd opened again. The person in blue, a woman, was looking back, talking to the man behind her. Then she turned her head and Jemeryl felt her heart stop. The whole world stopped. She could see nothing except Tevi strolling towards her.
Jemeryl’s hand must have yanked on the reins, because her horse skittered and tried to pull back. The disturbance was just enough to draw a few glances. Tevi also looked across, and their eyes met.
Jemeryl could not have moved. She did not need to. Tevi broke away from the group and raced over. “Jem! You’re here.”
Arms enfolded her. Tevi’s voice murmured in her ear. “Shard said that you’d come, but I haven’t known whether I... I’m so pleased you’re here.”
Jemeryl collapsed into Tevi’s embrace. A crowd gathered around them, but the people and noise scarcely registered. Someone took her horse. She and Tevi, arms wrapped around each other, were gently guided towards a stone building—or was Tevi the one leading? Dazed was not the right word for Jemeryl’s mental state. Her warding mantra had fled, leaving only a hole in her mind that would not fill with coherent thoughts.
The Empress and the Acolyte Page 26