by Garon Whited
While I was feeding her, I felt the residual heat from her run; she’s massive, after all, and takes a long time to cool down. That made me wonder about my newfound immunity to fire.
As an experiment, I lit a stick and waved my finger through the flame. It didn’t bother me, so I held my fingertip in the fire. I jerked it back quickly; it stung.
Interesting. Was that the difference between magical and mundane flames, or the difference between night and day? I resolved to experiment later, when I could regenerate any mistakes.
Speaking of later, day was wearing on. I wandered along the magical line, looking for Tianna. I wanted to get back, hopefully before Amber finished her harangue—excuse me, “discussion”—with Tamara.
I found her far, far down in the depths of the mountain’s tunnels. She had already pushed open half a dozen heavy doors and was working on another. I nudged it open for her and we looked farther down the long, curving corridor. It continued down.
“How deep does it go?” she asked, looking into the dark.
“I don’t know for certain,” I admitted. “I think it goes a lot farther down than this.”
“Does it come out on the underside?”
The world is flat, and it has a top side and an underside. I know this because… why? Because I have indiscriminately large meals, that’s why. The mountain might have gone down that far while I was napping, which means I might have dreamed about it, or dreamed it into being, just like the tunnels under the canals…
Aargh. There are tunnels under the canals?
Later, later…
I knew about this tunnel, though, in that weird, déjà vu fashion of dreams. It went a long way. Maybe all the way. As it was, we were nearly deep enough to reach the heart of the mountain—the place of its power, the inferno of deadly light.
I felt cold, then afraid. I didn’t know what the heart of the mountain was, only that it was dangerous.
“It might,” I admitted, keeping my voice steady. “The tunnel goes a long way.”
“Wow.”
“Come on. Let’s get back before your mom notices you’re gone and decides to broil me.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Tianna assured me. She sounded absolutely confident. She started walking back up with me, though, holding onto my hand.
“What makes you say that?” I asked. I chose not to bring up the previous incineration attempt.
Hmm. Come to think of it, that was Sparky, not Amber. Did Tianna make that distinction?
“You’re her dad,” Tianna told me.
“Well, yes.”
“That makes you my granddad.”
“Again, yes.”
“It would make me sad,” she explained.
“Oh. Well, that’s a good reason,” I agreed.
After a while, trudging up a gradual incline proved to be tiring. I hoisted Tianna up to ride on my back and carried her the rest of the way. She seemed to enjoy the ride. As I hiked, I translated (badly) a few verses of “The Minstrel Boy.” Eventually, I gave her a translation spell so she could understand it in English. That delighted her beyond words, so she made me sing it again. Then she taught me the one about a king who fought a dragon.
Me.
I completely forgot about Linnaeus, the bastard.
Excuse me. Bard. I meant “the bard.” Not that I was wrong, but that’s not what I meant.
Or maybe it was. Grr.
“That’s a very interesting song,” I told her. “Do you know any more?”
“Oh, yes! Lots! There must be thousands!”
I didn’t trust her math skills, but “lots” can be used in place of an embarrassingly large number.
Linnaeus spent decades writing songs, ballads, poems, stories, and so forth. His favorite topic was apparently the ancient lord of the night, returned from beyond the Edge of the World, to do battle with a corrupt church, dragons, viksagi, politicians, dark races, and other monsters. In between, this paragon upheld the virtuous, guided the dying beyond the mortal realm, protected children, and punished the wicked.
If I screw up, I’m going to disappoint my eight-year-old granddaughter. And her mother. And probably everyone else in Mochara, possibly the world.
No pressure. Sheesh.
We walked out with Bronze and I shut the door behind us. I remembered to work up a windshield spell before we climbed aboard, too, so the wind wasn’t nearly as bad as we raced southward at some unknown velocity.
I still need to come up with some sort of timing device or spell. I’m really curious how fast she’s going. It feels faster than I recall, and it may be faster every time we go for a run. I shouldn’t be surprised. Not only do enchantments get stronger over time, but Bronze keeps changing to meet demand.
We made it almost to the gates when my alert went off; Amber just got the message. I told Tianna and she bit her lip. She looked an awful lot like her grandmother when she did that; it was almost a perfect replica of Tamara’s mannerism.
“Problem?” I asked.
“No.”
“Tianna…” I said, trailing off.
“Well, Mom won’t be happy.”
“We’re hurrying. I thought you said I wouldn’t get into trouble?”
“You’re the King. Doesn’t that mean you can’t get in trouble?”
“Oh, great,” I muttered. Without urging, Bronze tried to go faster.
We slowed for the town gate. It was already open, since it was broad daylight, but I didn’t want to go through it at warp speed and discover the joys of cross-traffic and pedestrians. We slowed to a more normal gallop while Bronze kept her head down and flamed the road. Breathing fire is dangerous; she could light up a lot of the town. We were careful, though, and merely dried a lot of mud.
Amber came out of the house when she heard the approaching alarm-bells. Two men were installing a new door. I noticed the old hinges were gone, apparently melted away.
I slid down and helped Tianna to the ground. Amber looked us both over with a keen and penetrating gaze that made me feel as though my own mother was looking at me. Tianna ran over to her and hugged her.
“Mom! Bronze runs really fast! And she’s a fire-horse! And there’s a really big mountain, and it’s alive! I could feel it! And it’s not haunted anymore because Grandpa took all the ghosts away. And it goes down really deep, too! And it’s got a green crown on the very top, just like in the song—”
“Enough,” Amber said, and knelt to hug Tianna. “Hush. We’ll talk later.” She looked up at me. “You took her all the way to the mountain?”
“Well, it’s less than half an hour away, and we’re back in time for lunch…”
“And he taught me a song!” Tianna said, “The minstrel boy to the war is gone/in the ranks of death you will find him. His father’s sword he hath girded on/and his wild harp slung behind him…”
“Later, Tee.”
“And I taught him one about him! Mom, he doesn’t know any of his own songs!”
Amber checked herself and looked surprised.
“You don’t?” she asked me.
“I don’t. I was asleep while Linnaeus was inventing them. Sorry.”
“Hmm.”
Oh, Great Genetic Lottery! Is that the face I make when I do that “Hmm” thing? The poor girl looks like me when she does that!
“I’m sorry we didn’t discuss it with you, first,” I said. “We didn’t want to interrupt. But I took every care with her, and she’s had a wonderful time, and I won’t do it again without your permission,” I added, sincerely. “Please don’t try to broil me. It would make me sad.”
“And me,” Tianna added. “Please don’t broil him!”
It’s amazing how quickly an excited child can go from excited-happy to excited-scared.
“I won’t!” Amber assured her. “Not this time, anyway,” she said, eyeballing me.
“Thank you.” I looked at Tianna. “Ahem,” I prompted.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Good gi
rl.”
Amber looked at her, then at me with an expression compounded of surprise and wonder.
“Well, you’re both welcome. Come along, Tee. We have things to do. And I’m certain he does, too.”
“Okay. Wait!”
Tianna jerked loose and plowed into me, arms going around me and squeezing for all she was worth.
“Thank you for taking me to your mountain, Grandpa.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Then she let go of me and hugged one of Bronze’s forelegs. Bronze backed up a step, much to Tianna’s confusion, and then did something no flesh-and-blood horse could do. She rolled her legs under her, lowering herself to nearly ground-level so Tianna could hug her neck—which she did, enthusiastically. Bronze snorted flames and Tianna giggled. I suppose they just tickle a fire-witch.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said, and kissed Bronze’s cheek. Well, if I’d thought to kneel down, I might have gotten one, too. I was just too surprised. Note to self.
Then Tianna went back to her mother and took her hand. I nodded to Amber. Amber nodded to me. And, best of all, she didn’t seem upset, now that Tianna was back, safe and sound. She might even have smiled at me a little.
I counted that as an improvement.
Torvil, Kammen, and Seldar were running around with all the would-be knights, shouting at them, singing with them, crawling with them, the works. I was terribly proud. Kelvin was also participating, but doing so silently. I watched for a little bit as people hopped, skipped, ran, climbed, teetered, tottered, gyrated, and generally exhausted themselves.
I beckoned Kelvin over. He stopped bench-pressing a partner—their hands were locked together; the partner did push-ups on top while Kelvin did the bench-press from below; very acrobatic—and hurried over to genuflect again.
“Sire.”
“What’s going on here?”
“Exercise, Sire.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be running them into the ground?”
“I am not a knight, Sire. Those three are in charge.” He nodded toward the only three people with sashes. I was pleased to see they had found grey ones for themselves, but also concerned.
“I think I may know what the problem is,” I told him. “I told them to remember they were the only knights in town.”
Kelvin’s lips twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile.
“That sounds as though it would account for their actions, Sire.”
“Such as?”
“They have been insistent about their authority. And rightly,” he added, quickly, “if I may say so, Sire.”
“I see. Please let them know I want them.”
He sprang to his feet and ran to get them. All four were in front of me in moments.
“Why are these people not dragging themselves through their workout by sheer force of will?” I asked. Torvil, Kammen, and Seldar looked at each other.
“Your Majesty,” Seldar said, “we are trying to do as we saw yesterday.”
“If nobody has collapsed in exhaustion, you’re not doing it right. Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“Majesty, we are doing everything we can.”
“I don’t think so. Kelvin. Why aren’t you drilling people?”
“I am not a knight,” he repeated. “These three are.”
“Yet, you have how many years of experience?”
“Twenty-nine, Sire. I was knighted at fourteen. Well, you know what I mean, Sire.”
I looked at my three teenagers. “And why didn’t you ask him to help? He’s got lots of experience. You don’t. Why didn’t you use that?”
The three looked at each other again, this time with expressions that clearly said It’s so obvious when someone points it out, isn’t it?
“We didn’t think of that, Majesty,” Torvil admitted.
“Glad I could help. Kelvin, serve them well, for now. You three—listen to the voice of experience. I’m going to stay out of it today and see how much improvement you four can cause in the next hour.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” they chorused.
“Get to it. Seldar, a moment, please.”
The rest moved off. Seldar saluted.
“Seldar, see that skinny guy?” I nodded toward Beltar.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“What do you think?”
“I like him. I think he has the makings of a knight, in his heart. It is his flesh that fails him.”
“Glad to hear that. Think you can fix that?”
“I have already begun to do so, Your Majesty,” he assured me. “If you wish to look closely, you will see several spells on him, my copies of the spells you gave to Torvil, Kammen, and I. Do you wish to examine them?”
“Not at the moment. Keep an eye on him. If it looks like our spells are having unintended effects, you let me know instantly, got that?”
“To hear is to obey, O Mighty King.”
“Cut that out and go help everyone.”
They did. Kelvin really knows how to wear someone down. He’s like a sadistic gym teacher without school regulations. It’s terrible to watch. The man is a machine. He had them sweating like squeezed sponges, then he divided them up into teams and had them take turns assaulting Mochara’s canal-side wall again. The city watch wasn’t sure what to make of it—last time, they had warning!—but they quickly got into the spirit of things and defended the wall with considerable zeal.
That was ugly. No fatalities, but a number of cracked or broken bones, with one leg breaking rather messily. I played medic so the rest of them could keep at it. Seldar joined me as a medic fairly quickly; he managed to break his ankle after being thrown from the wall.
Kammen came over to talk to me privately. During one of the ladder assaults, he had lifted a hand to shove the person ahead of him up. That’s when he noticed the candidate was definitely not a man. She pretended not to notice. He pretended it never happened, but came to let me know.
I told him I knew, to keep his mouth shut, and to get back in there. He shut up and went back to trying to climb a wall.
I noticed, with considerable pleasure, that we regularly had people make it over the wall. The simulation ended at the wall, though; they just jogged out the nearest gate to rejoin the assault.
Around midafternoon, Amber and Tianna came out to join the spectators. They obviously didn’t care for the dust, sweat, and blood, but they did make it a point to be helpful to the fallen. Seldar and I already had healing spells on the injured. I was teaching him to work his flesh-welding spells in the right order.
“It’s a question of how serious the problem is. If it’s a blood vessel, handle that first, but always make sure you’ve got the right ones. You mix up a vein and an artery and it’s not going to end well—Oh, hello, Amber, Tianna.”
“Good afternoon,” Amber replied. Tianna gave me a practiced curtsey. “I hear you have a number of wounded in this latest battle for Mochara?”
“Yes. The city guard is a group of violent, dangerous defenders, and their wall is pretty annoying, too. I think we could take the place, given proper preparation. It’s wonderful.”
Amber shook her head in mock sadness and started in on the wounded. She laid hands on them and flooded their systems with living energy. That didn’t weld flesh, but the welded flesh and bone would heal much more quickly and with minimal scarring. It also halted that nasty tendency of the wounded to go into shock.
Tianna also tried to help. Her efforts were less spectacular, but she did have some effect. It was the difference between a river and a drinking fountain, but a drinking fountain is sometimes all you need. I think Amber only brought her out so she could practice.
Amber kept a close eye on Tianna whenever Tianna was working on someone. Twice, Amber interrupted. On those occasions, I smelled smoke. I suspect Tianna doesn’t quite have the fine control to distinguish between life energy and thermal energy; it’s still all a lot of blazing power to her.
The fact that she can control it well enough to do only one or the other—at least, usually—is a good thing.
After they laid hands on the wounded, Tianna wanted to be up on Bronze. Amber may have come out to help, but I think Tianna just wanted to ride Bronze again. Maybe to see me, too, a little, but mainly to ride Bronze.
Well, Bronze is definitely prettier.
Tianna stood on Bronze’s shoulders, in front of me, while I sat there and steadied her. She liked being up where she had a view; eight-year-olds aren’t known for their height. Bronze’s mane wrapped around Tianna’s legs and waist, much to Tianna’s delight. With that sort of safety seat, I let Bronze trot around the exercise ground without me. I knew she was as careful as a kid with a basket of eggs.
The lady artist was out again, watching us and scratching at a tablet. I saw her on most days, doing whatever she was doing, but now I wasn’t the one driving the circus. I wandered over to her. She saw me coming, blinked at me a few times, and put her stylus away.
Mental note: paper. Not parchment, not papyrus, not a wooden tablet with a thin layer of wax. Paper. It’s vital to an educated society.
“Good afternoon,” I offered. She nodded. She was dark-haired and wore it long, in a thick braid. Her eyes were pale blue, almost grey, and she looked at me calmly. They probably changed color in different light. I waited, but no reply seemed forthcoming. “And how are you today?” I continued.
“I’m well, thank you.”
More silence. It started to feel awkward.
“I’m Halar,” I added.
“I know.”
“I’ve seen you out here before.”
She smiled and said nothing.
“Okay, I’ve been as polite as I know how, but you’re not helping this conversation along.”
“Should I?” she asked, all innocence. I shifted gears.
“Fine. I’m Halar. Who are you?”
“My name is Tyma.”
“What’s your occupation?”
“I’m a minstrel.”
“Why are you out here?”
“My father wants me to tell him about what’s going on.”
“Who is your father?”
“Minaren.”
I sighed.
“Quizzing you is not my idea of entertainment,” I suggested.