by Mirren Hogan
She nodded. “Can I ask why you chose to come on this journey?”
“You don’t think coming to train you is a worthwhile enough pastime?” he asked.
“Well—I suppose it is. I mean—”
He chuckled. “I’m here for the adventure as well. How often do you get to save the world?”
“Is that what you think we’re doing?” she asked. “I thought we were supposed to find the well, then tell the rest where it is?”
“If that was all, he’d have just sent Ezeji,” Kwame replied. “Or come himself. No, Sevele sent Tabia because she’s powerful and will do whatever needs to be done. Also because the magula spoke to her, and seemed to have some trust in her.”
“Then why am I here?” Adina blurted out. “I saw the magula, but I’m not that powerful. Am I?” She half-wished he’d tell her she was, but he shrugged.
“It’s difficult to say so soon.”
“But everyone knew Darai was powerful,” she pointed out.
“It’s easier to tell with air magic,” Kwame said patiently. “The magic is almost palpable. The air seems to pulsate with it; at least for those in tune with such things.”
Adina nodded slowly. She’d always seen magic on and around him, like an aura. Even when he wasn’t channeling it, it clung to him like a scent. Even Tabia wasn’t like that, although there was something magical about her. Adina suspected that had more to do with the woman than her ability to use magic. People were either drawn to her, or felt threatened by her. No one seemed to stand on middle ground.
“I understand,” she said, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
“Why are you here?” he asked.
She nodded.
“You’re here because Tabia wanted you here,” he replied. “Is that not a good enough answer?”
“Not really, but I don’t think you’re going to give me a better one, are you?”
He smiled and patted her arm again. “That’s the best I can give you, unless you want to get into the mysterious desires of the gods. For that I might need several hours and a female goat.”
“A female goat?” she echoed, stopping to stare at him. “What do you need one of those for?”
“For goat’s milk, of course,” he replied. “I do my best thinking and talking while I’m drinking a cup. Why, what did you think I wanted one for?”
“Honestly, I had no idea,” she replied.
CHAPTER 43
The track up into the mountains petered out after two hours of walking. One moment they were following it as it wound upward, the next it was gone. Tabia looked around, assuming it had been covered by bushes or newly fallen trees, and would come out the other side. She saw no sign of it. There was no discernible indication that anyone else had ever been here before.
“Nothing says ‘ominous’ like a track to nowhere,” Harshal remarked, using air quotes. “Where to now?” He looked at Tabia, who looked to Ezeji, who was just coming to a stop beside them, panting lightly.
The sorcerer shrugged. “We just keep moving upward. If your friend said we’re going the right way, then we proceed.” He seemed somehow annoyed that no magula had taken the time to speak to him, although he was the most practiced sorcerer present. Perhaps magic from his bitter fingers would have a sour taste. It wasn’t as though Tabia had asked Yikara to seek her out. The child had gone to Benassi first, which said little for her judgment, and everything about her desperation. She’d wanted someone who could listen and was willing to comply. Of course Tabia hadn’t forgotten that Yikara had first attacked her, before behaving rationally, but fear made people do things they would otherwise not. The child had probably not been violent in her normal life as a young girl. Hopefully if she survived this ordeal, it wouldn’t change her irreparably.
“She did,” Tabia replied, gaining no satisfaction from the twist of Ezeji’s mouth.
“Have you called her?” he asked, his tone curt. “Make her to tell us the location of the well.”
“It’s not that simple,” she replied. She had to concede that she hadn’t thought to try to summon Yikara. Perhaps she should have. Part of her felt embarrassed that he’d suggested it first, but she pushed it away. She had no time for self-recrimination. “I suppose I could try.”
He scowled at her. “Do.”
Tabia leaned back against a tree trunk and took a breath. How would she call a magula? Would Yikara even heed her? How would she know if she heard and ignored her? She probably wouldn’t.
She drew a tendril of magic and sent it out to seek another source of magic. It seemed to sniff out Harshal and Ezeji, then Kwame and Adina. It even hesitated at Isobel before apparently dismissing her. It twisted around in the air and then surged up the side of the mountain.
“Where is it going?” Ezeji demanded.
“I don’t think it’s answering the question I asked,” Tabia replied. “But it’s answering the one we need.” She kept her palm open, maintaining the channel of magic while she followed it up the slope. After the Grandai, she had some idea of how far magic could travel with her as its conduit, but this tendril was moving so quickly she was struggling to keep up. If she tripped and fell, she might lose it and not be able to recreate whatever she’d inadvertently done.
Behind her, she heard the others crashing over bushes to keep up. Harshal swore, but she couldn’t stop to look back and see why. Doubtless he’d be in good hands if he was hurt.
She was sweating freely now, between the physical exertion and the effort to keep the magic flowing. The higher she went, the cooler and thinner the air became, making breathing more difficult.
She scraped her arm on a broken, protruding branch and winced, but didn’t slow, even when she felt a trickle of blood running down her arm and mingling with the sweat.
Finally, the tendril stopped.
Tabia was standing on a ledge near the middle of the mountain. A glance back showed her how far she’d come, and it made her gasp. Somewhere nearby, she heard the roar of a waterfall, mixed with the voices of her friends who were trying to catch up.
In front of her, the rock face was sheer, reaching at least two dozen feet into the sky. She frowned. She knew there wouldn’t be a building or a sign, but maybe a cave, or a crevice, or— something.
She touched the wall with the palm of her hand, while magic danced on the other. The stone should be cold and hard. It was warm, like the touch of skin to skin.
She drew her hand back and tried to encourage the tendril to keep looking. It pressed itself against the rock like a lover, but either couldn’t or wouldn’t go farther.
“What did you find?” Harshal had finally reached the ledge and stopped beside her. He too, was sweating and breathing heavily.
“I think the well is on the other side of that.” She nodded toward the rock.
“There must be a way around to it then,” he suggested. He crossed to the other side of the ledge and looked up, then down. It was a sheer drop of at least a hundred feet, broken only by several unforgiving looking trees and boulders.
“Not that way,” Harshal said. “Can we climb up that thing?”
Tabia’s eyes followed it up. “I could levitate, but I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She turned to him. “If the well was just sitting out in the open, for anyone to find, then someone would have. And the magula could just get at it,” she reasoned.
“I guess so.” He shrugged.
“I think,” she continued, “that it’s behind this.” She touched the rock again. “I think we’re supposed to find a way in.”
“Through the rock?” he asked, incredulous.
“Through it,” she agreed. “Or maybe there’s a way to, I don’t know, move it aside somehow.”
“I don’t know, it looks pretty solid to me.” He looked dubious, but crouched down to brush dirt and weeds from the base of the rock wall. “Hmmm, curious.”
“What?�
� She crouched done beside him.
“I don’t think this sheet of rock is connected to the ledge. It looks as though it’s sitting on it. I think you’re right. We need to move it.”
“Let me see.” Ezeji crouched down beside them and looked at the gap and the pile of dirt as though moving more was beneath him. “Hmmm, perhaps you are correct, but moving that much stone is going to require an enormous amount of power.”
“I agree, Tabia replied. She ignored Ezeji’s look of surprise and nodded. “I think if we all join together, we can generate what we need.”
Surprise turned to something closer to disgust. Of course Ezeji wouldn’t want to pool his magic with theirs, but there was no other way to move the stone. Alone, none of them were strong enough.
“Unless you have a better idea?” she asked dryly.
His response was to straighten up and move away. “Everyone leave your bags aside,” he ordered, before removing his and putting it on the ground to the left of the ledge, the way they’d come. “And you—” He stabbed a finger at Isobel. “Stay down there with the bags.”
Isobel looked ready to obey, when Tabia objected.
“She stays. If she wants to.” She looked questioningly at her lover, who nodded.
“I have come this far.”
Ezeji looked ready to chew the rock, but he shrugged instead. “Just stay out of the way. Adina, Kwame, get water out.”
They hurried to pull out water jars and remove the stoppers.
“How do we do this?” Adina asked quickly, addressing the question to Tabia.
“We have to all be touching,” Tabia explained. “One of us becomes the conduit for everyone else. The —”
“You, I suppose?” Ezeji snapped.
“It might as well be me,” she said without looking at him. “I’ll direct the magic toward the stone and try to move it.” She blinked as Yikara appeared beside Adina, who jumped.
“Oh, you found it?” She pressed small hands against the stone, while Ezeji and Harshal stared in disbelief. “It’s so warm, but I can feel the magic.”
She sounded so hungry. Tabia smiled.
“Once we’ve gotten in and made sure it’s safe, you won’t have to worry,” she said gently. “You’ll have what you need. You can bathe and be yourself again.”
“I know I will,” Yikara said without looking away from the stone.
Harshal cleared his throat. “All right then, shall we?” He held out a hand to Adina, who took it, her other hand clutching the jar, so her fingers were touching the water.
Ezeji put a hand on Adina’s arm, where her skin was exposed. She gave him a funny look, but didn’t complain. His other hand went to Kwame’s arm. The short sorcerer would form the end of the line.
Tabia took Harshal’s hand.
He grinned. “At last,” he joked.
She rolled her eyes. “Always with the inappropriate comments.”
“That’s me,” he said happily.
“Don’t change.”
“Never.”
“When you two are ready,” Ezeji growled.
“Sorry.”
“I’m not,” Harshal replied.
Tabia smirked. “All right. Everyone draw.”
She didn’t need to look to know that the four other sorcerers were channeling magic in their own way. She felt it rise through the earth and slide up through the water. She felt the warmth spread from Kwame, though Adina, Ezeji, Harshal, and into her. Her whole body tingled and burned, the immense amount of power they all possessed flowing into her.
It was only a matter of heartbeats before she was holding more than she could manage. Was this how the Outpouring felt? It itched at her skin, pressing harder and harder until she had to let it out.
She focused all of the power on the cliff.
She felt a sudden flash of recognition, like the magic held on the other side of the stone knew its own and was welcoming it. The well—she could only assume that was what it was—was reaching out to its own kind, like a snake greeting its own tail. It wanted to join with itself, but the solid rock stood between them.
Barely imperceptible at first, the stone began to move, not rolling or opening like a door, as she’d suspected, but crumbling away. At first it was a handful of dust, then a few tiny pebbles.
Deep in the back of her mind, she registered that the ledge they were standing on was crumbling as well. She heard someone cry out; felt the slightest tilt toward the right and the hundred foot drop.
The magic licked hungrily at the stone, tearing it apart like it was nothing more than stale bread. Tabia thought she heard it growl, or perhaps that was her. Her feet moved, slid a little.
“Stop, stop!”
She heard someone yell, but the magic was consuming her too fully for her to respond.
Then it was gone.
All of the magic except hers winked out of her. What she held wasn’t enough to continue what she’d started; she felt the magic’s frustration, or was that her again? She let the magic go as someone grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Stop, you’ll kill her and everyone else.”
She saw Darai’s angry face an inch from hers.
“What? How?” She jerked away from him and looked around. At least a quarter of the ledge had crumbled away, and a good portion of the rock face. The well was still firmly behind it.
“Where did you come from?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter, you can’t do this without me, “ he declared.
“I beg your pardon?” Had he gone mad from his experience at the guild? No, his eyes looked perfectly lucid, just angry. “Says who?”
“Says him.” Darai jerked a thumb toward Afruen, who was in the middle of a warm reunion with Ezeji.
“Afruen?”
The sorcerer turned at the mention of his name.
“Oh yes. Sevele found some information.” He handed her a piece of paper.
She read. “Earth, air, blood, spirit?” She frowned. She understood air and earth. A glance at Adina reminded her of the girl’s ability to channel via blood. But spirit? What use could that be?
Unless—
“Darai, can you spirit drift while you channel? If you could see the safest place to channel through—”
“By the gods!” Afruen roared. “She is right! You need to guide us all through the wall and open it from the inside. That way, we can stay back until it is open. Genius!”
Tabia flushed. “Let’s try again.”
“Wait,” Adina said, stepping forward. “Did you say blood?”
Tabia checked the paper and nodded. “Yes, so water won’t do.” She looked at the blood still wet on her arm from the broken branch.
“Can you channel from my blood?” she asked her.
“I should be able to.” Adina glanced at Kwame. He stood with his eyebrows raised.
“I should do the same,” he said. “But from someone else.”
“Me.” Isobel spoke up suddenly. “I want to help.”
Tabia was about to refuse, but she saw the look in her lover’s eyes. She was the only one here who couldn’t do magic. There was almost no reason for her presence, other than Tabia wanting her there. At least this way, she’d be a part of this endeavour.
She nodded. “All right. I’ll need to give you a cut.” It didn’t need to be a big one, just enough to bleed a little bit.
Isobel looked Tabia in the eyes and immediately stuck out her arm. After all they’d been through, the message was clear: I trust you. It meant more to Tabia that anyone could know.
She took a small knife Harshal handed her and brought it to Isobel’s skin. Trying not to hurt her, she pressed the blade down lightly, until a thin line of blood welled up around it.
Isobel didn’t even flinch. She smiled.
“There, that should do it.” Tabia handed back the knife and gestured for them all to retreat off the ledge and onto the safety of solid ground.
The little company formed up as before, hands in h
ands and on arms, Darai closest to the ledge.
“Let’s do this.”
CHAPTER 44
Darai felt uneasy around all of these people. He’d barely had time to exchange a smile with Adina. At least he knew she was still alive. The rest, Tabia, Harshal and Ezeji, he’d gone to some effort to leave them behind him, and here they were again. They were literally still behind him, but they were all connected like a deadly serpent. And he was the head.
He scowled at Tabia’s hand on his arm, but closed his eyes and focused on the task ahead. He’d only deliberately spirit drifted once, and not for long, but he thought he could do it again. He’d just need to draw and let the magic be the cord to bind himself to his body. Then he’d have to grab on to everyone else’s magic and tug it though the stone. How hard could that be?
Silently acknowledging that it might be impossible, he drew.
The magic came so easily and in such a rush that it surprised him into almost releasing it. He wanted to prove to himself, and to the rest of them, that he wasn’t out of control, so he held it, teeth clenched. It became more difficult when the combined magic of six other people started to flow into him.
He felt it coursing with a white-hot heat. He could have incinerated everyone there and pulled down half the mountain. And why shouldn’t he? How could the sorcerers be trusted to open the well for the magula? Why should he even care if they didn’t?
In a moment of clarity, he understood. The thing he’d been running from, and trying to deny, was a part of him. He could no more give up using magic than he could give up breathing. Feeling it surging through his blood, it made his body sing. The raw power of the earth, the air, and the blood made his heart soar.
He whipped out of his body so fast his spirit flipped in mid-air. It made him whoop out loud. He circled over the sorcerers, seeing them locked in concentration. Yikara stood behind them, looking delighted. This was all for her, to keep her alive so she could be saved as he’d been saved. She was the one who had removed his magic, revealing his destiny as a sorcerer. She’d done that for him and he would do this for her.
With a flourish, he headed for the rock face and passed right through it like it wasn’t there.