Warrior Mage

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I don’t know if I can make it, Yanko,” Lakeo said, having caught her breath enough to talk, though she still sounded like she was on the edge of sanity. Understandable. If they fell, there was a chance they would miss the rocks and land in the surf, but with the way the tide was smashing against the cliff, he did not like their odds of swimming all the way to the harbor, especially as weary as they were. Even without trying, he could sense the marine life moving around down there, alert and agitated, doubtlessly aware of the volcano’s rumbles. A passing shark might not be so distracted that it wouldn’t notice a pair of weak swimmers in the water.

  “Better to climb than jump,” he said, catching Lakeo peering over her shoulder. “You can do it. And then we’ll flop down on the ground up there and have a long rest before figuring out what to do next.”

  “I don’t know if we’re going to get to do that.”

  “What do you mean?” Yanko frowned.

  She wasn’t giving up on him, was she? Not after what they had just survived. Yes, the climb would be steep, but they could take their time and handle it.

  “Look.” Lakeo was not looking down, but out toward the ocean.

  Yanko followed her gaze and groaned when he spotted moving lights atop the dark water. Sun Dragon’s ship. It was heading in their direction.

  Chapter 17

  “We have to get off this cliff,” Yanko said above the pounding of the surf. “You can make it.”

  Lakeo groaned in response.

  “It’s not too late to toss those books to the sharks.”

  “Then the Kyattese will really hate me,” she said. “Destroying knowledge is probably a greater crime here than stealing it.”

  Another rumble came from the depths of the volcano, making the cliff tremble. Yanko’s forearms trembled too. Even if that ship weren’t coming, he would need to get off the rocks before his fingers gave way. He shifted his weight, lifting one hand to pat the wall, hunting for a higher ledge. He found a vertical crevice. That would have to do. He wedged his hand in, then looked for a foothold for the leg that had been dangling free.

  “I’m heading up,” he said.

  “Me too. Not anywhere fast.”

  “Me too.” Yanko resisted the urge to glance back at the warrior mage’s ship, the same sleek gray craft that had been following them since Nuria.

  “Some light would be nice,” Lakeo said.

  “I’m too tired to conjure anything else.” Yanko wiped his sweaty palm on his robe for the thousandth time before reaching for a new handhold. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so weary. “Besides, they would see it and be able to spot us more easily.”

  “You don’t think that molten lava shooting out of the cliff a few feet below is enough of a beacon?”

  Yanko sighed, acknowledging the point as he shifted his foot up to the next ledge. Light would not matter a wit. Sun Dragon could track him anywhere. It must be nice to be so talented. Maybe if Yanko had gone to school, he would have such abilities.

  Focus. You’re an easy target right now.

  I’m trying not to focus on that.

  The voice in his mind did not have a response for that. He kept climbing, ignoring the fact that his fingers were bleeding. Twenty feet to go. Lakeo had to be as tired as he, but she was making better progress. Maybe she would reach the top and throw a rope down to him.

  A shiver ran down his spine, one at odds with the humid night air, air made more humid by the steam still rising up from the lava spill. Dread came to nest in his stomach.

  “Attack coming,” he warned and did his best to enter a meditative state there on the cliff side, with the wind tugging at his robe, trying to tear him from the narrow perch he rested on.

  “What kind?”

  Yanko shook his head. He could not spare the concentration to talk. He could feel power building out on that ship, even though it was still half a mile away and not daring the rocks beneath the cliff. When the fireball formed in the air above its deck, he was not surprised.

  Lakeo cursed and climbed faster. Yanko held his position, fear humming through his nerves, giving him a modicum of fresh energy. The fireball raced through the air, its target inevitable. Yanko used the same tactic he had on the ship, creating a wall of air and thrusting it outward from the cliff. As before, it met the fireball, but it did a poorer job of deflecting it. Some of the heat and power burst through, and Yanko ducked his head as much as he could, trying to take the brunt of it on his pack.

  “Don’t let him get through, Yanko,” Lakeo called down. “You don’t want to lose to that monkey’s ass.”

  “Losing is less of a problem for me than being incinerated.” Knowing there would be more attacks, Yanko returned to climbing as soon as the flames dissipated. He hoped there was something large and fire-retardant to hide behind on the cliff above. Ten feet to go.

  The warning prick came again, licking his spine like a reptile’s sandy tongue. Eight feet to the top. Afraid he would not have the power to deflect another blow, he lunged for a handhold almost out of reach. If he could just pull himself over the edge and get out of the way...

  Lakeo was crawling over the top now.

  “Fireball,” she blurted.

  “I know.” Yanko pushed off a bump with one foot and surged upward, grasping for the top. He caught it with the tips of his fingers.

  Lakeo grabbed him under the armpit and helped him over. The light of the approaching fireball turned the top of the cliff orange, illuminating the grass and trees and boulders. Half crawling, half rolling, Yanko scrambled for a tree, having some notion of hiding behind the broad trunk.

  The fireball struck the top of the cliff wall. Flames leaped over the edge, charring grass and blowing up shards of rock with the heat, but the stone took the brunt of the attack.

  Yanko shoved himself to his feet. He staggered after Lakeo, thinking little more than that he had to get inland, that only distance and obstacles could protect him from further attacks. Rocks and grit stabbed at his burned, bare feet. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into some healer’s office.

  “The Falcon’s Flight?” Lakeo asked, turning to follow the cliff. “Should we head down and try to find them?”

  They were not as far inland as Yanko would have liked, but he and Lakeo would have had to have gone mountain climbing if they wanted to put more distance between themselves and the surf. Town seemed a more likely place for them to avoid Sun Dragon, but they would need to follow a steep path down to the streets and buildings, one that ran close to the edge of the cliff.

  People were out in the streets below, staring toward the volcano and the smoke whispering from its caldera. On the flat roof of a large building in the center of town, two dozen men and women in white robes had gathered, also facing the volcano. Many had their hands up toward it and their heads down. Even from his perch on the rocky slope a mile away, Yanko could sense them working some magic, trying to settle the beast before it erupted. He wished he could borrow some of their power to settle another beast, an annoying monkey’s ass, as Lakeo had said.

  “Yanko? The piers?” She was leading and glanced back at him. As if he knew where they should go.

  “We better hide inland and—” Yanko’s instincts warned of another attack. “Duck,” he said, lunging behind a boulder and wishing there was more cover on this slope. Lakeo’s foot caught, and she tripped, landing flat on her stomach on the path. Before he could crawl out to grab her and pull her back, the ground burst into flames ahead of them.

  Cursing, Lakeo rolled back and scrambled behind Yanko’s boulder. He could not tell if anything was burning—there hadn’t been much more than grass on the rocky hillside—but heat poured off the inferno, promising great pain to anyone who crossed through it. Another time, Yanko might have been able to find a way to put it out, but his mind ached, and he was so tired, he could barely think to scoot away as it rolled across the ground, approaching them with spitting flames.

  “Back the way we came?” Lakeo
looked up and immediately issued another chain of curses. “He’s playing with us, that bastard.”

  Wearily, Yanko glanced over his shoulder. Another inferno burned at the top of the path. Already, it had started rolling toward them. The only way out would be to run and jump off the cliff. It wouldn’t be as great of a fall here as it had been where they had come out, but they were still half a mile away from the calmer—less rocky—waters of the harbor.

  Before he had finished considering that option, flames leaped up from that direction, as well, blocking access to the ocean. The mage was playing with them. And Yanko was letting him play with them. He needed to strike at the man somehow, not simply react to all the torment. This was ridiculous. But how could he attack someone from half a mile away? He had barely mastered lighting candles. Hurling fire across hundreds of meters? Not on his best day, and certainly not now. He needed to use his strength, earth magic. Maybe he could find some seaweed in the ocean, clog the ship’s rudders, or...

  He lifted his head, an idea sparking in his mind.

  Lakeo growled and rolled to the balls of her feet. “We can run through it. Fire isn’t like lava.”

  “Wait,” Yanko said, resting a hand on her arm. “Give me a moment. I don’t know if it’s out there, but if it is, maybe...”

  “Yanko we don’t have a lot of moments here. Those walls of fire are closing in on us. Can you tell how far they extend?” She shifted her weight, ready to sprint through them rather than being trapped.

  Yanko dropped to his knees instead, resting his hands on the earth, sending his mind into the ocean. The sea seethed with life, fish, octopuses, rays... all agitated, sensing the chaos within the volcano. Some were fleeing but others simply waited, those that made their homes in the shallow waters. Where else could they go?

  But what about deeper water creatures? Yanko pushed his senses to their limits, searching out beyond the harbor. Just because he had seen that creature on the way in didn’t mean it would be out there now, but it was probably the only thing powerful enough to trouble that ship. He brushed past a whale and almost stopped there, but a larger aura called to him, one taking advantage of the chaos to catch fish.

  “Yanko,” Lakeo whispered above the crackling of flames. “I’m not leaving you here. But you’re not staying.” She gripped his shoulder.

  “Wait,” he breathed, already touching the kraken’s mind with his own, promising a huge bag of fish in return for a favor.

  Lakeo didn’t wait. She yanked him to his feet, breaking his concentration—and his link to the creature.

  “What are you—”

  “Look.” She thrust her hand at the walls of flame surrounding them, scorching the earth. She pushed him in the direction of the cliff and the sea, though he could not see either through the swirling orange and yellow inferno. “We have to run, jump. Go.”

  Afraid she was right, that he hadn’t gotten his message through to the kraken and that it was too late to try again, Yanko lifted an arm to shield his face. Bracing himself for the pain, he raced into the flames.

  But they stopped before they had done more than warm his skin. Between one blink and the next, the flames had disappeared, leaving only the charred and bare earth steaming where the fire had been.

  That charred earth burned Yanko’s already raw and blistered feet, and he yelped, hopping back to the patch of untouched ground.

  “Yanko,” Lakeo said from the cliff—she still had her boots, and the hot ground hadn’t stopped her. “Did you do that?”

  He couldn’t see what she was pointing at. With a number of curses for the warrior mage’s clan and progenitors, Yanko forced himself across the burned earth to her side. When he stopped, he had to drop his pack and stand on it, since heat still radiated from the smoking earth. He spotted the ship right away, the capsized ship.

  Massive dark tentacles had wrapped around the railing and the twin masts, pulling the craft off to the side. More tentacles batted at the deck, knocking people overboard to join others already in the water. One of the masts snapped in half, the loud crack audible even from Yanko’s perch. A heavy tentacle smashed through the wooden deck, leaving an eight-foot hole. Lanterns flew free of their posts, skidding into the water and going out.

  “I didn’t realize it was that big,” Yanko whispered as darkness claimed the ship. He hoped the crew would be able to swim to shore or stay afloat until rescue boats rowed out. He glanced toward town to see if anyone down there had noticed, or if the smoking volcano still commanded their attention.

  A number of people had gathered outside a fish market on the quay, and they were pointing toward the kraken. It shouldn’t be long before a rescue team could be formed, so long as the volcano did not erupt. If that happened, the warrior mage should have no one to blame except himself. Should. Sun Dragon might still blame Yanko.

  “We better take our opportunity to find the Falcon’s Flight and get out of here. If they’ll take us.” Yanko tested the ground. It still oozed heat, but he could stand on it. He grabbed his pack. “A lot of ships might decide to leave at dawn to escape the chaos here.” Chaos that he was responsible for... No, he couldn’t blame all of this on himself. It might not have happened if he had never come here, but the warrior mage had chosen his tactics. “And I need to buy some fish on the way to the dock.”

  Lakeo didn’t seem to hear him. She was staring out at the ship and shaking her head. Yanko hadn’t thought she would find any attack orchestrated against one’s enemies too much—she was the one who had intended to shoot the mage hunter. But he admitted that he didn’t know if the crew was his enemy, only that Sun Dragon was. Had they chosen to work for him? Or merely been ordered to by their employers?

  “I’ll stop it,” Yanko said. The ship had been damaged so badly, it would be lucky if any part of it could remain afloat. It wouldn’t be chasing the Falcon’s Flight—that was a certainty. The warrior mage doubtlessly had the funds to requisition another ship, but Yanko hoped he would be delayed. Maybe if he fell far enough behind, Sun Dragon would not be able to track Yanko this time.

  He closed his eyes, reaching out toward the kraken, sharing an image of a bag of fish with it. The creature had done its task and could stop.

  “Are you truly commanding it?” Lakeo gaped at him.

  “It was more of a negotiation. You don’t command animals much bigger and stronger than you.” Yanko recalled a childhood attempt to command his grandmother’s cat. “Not many smaller and weaker, either.” He waved toward the path—with all of the grass on the hillside burned, they could choose any route down to the city.

  “That’s incredible, Yanko.” Lakeo kept glancing toward the ship—the wreck—as they walked. The tentacles released, slithered off the wood, and disappeared back into the ocean. “I didn’t realize you were that powerful. I mean, I knew you were stronger than I am, but...” She whistled lowly.

  “I’m not.” Yanko shuddered to think of his lowly talents compared to those of the mage hunting them. “It’s not as if I could have destroyed that ship.”

  “But the kraken—who else would do that?”

  “Anyone with animal-science training. The physical size of the creature doesn’t matter. It’s not any harder to communicate with an elephant than it is to chat up a mouse.”

  “I don’t know, Yanko. I don’t think anyone else could have done that.”

  Maybe it was because she usually teased or insulted him instead of looking at him with reverence, but her words made him uncomfortable. He did not speak again as they jogged into town. And he had reason to hurry; he could feel the kraken’s presence out in the harbor, waiting for him to come through with his half of the deal.

  * * *

  “Yanko?” came a woman’s familiar voice from the deck of the ship.

  “Arayevo.” Yanko should have come up with a more cheerful greeting—after all, it was morning now, with the first hint of dawn on the horizon—but he could barely see over the barrel he was carrying. He was staggering,
bow-legged and barefoot, toting the heavy load to the end of the long pier. “If you could get the captain, I need to talk to him, please.” Beg for passage was the more correct phrase, but that sounded undignified. It was bad enough that he was negotiating the wooden planks of the pier barefoot while wearing a robe more stained than the rocks under seagull nests.

  Lakeo stopped at the Falcon’s Flight, letting Yanko continue the long journey to the end of the pier by himself. He supposed he was the one who had made the deal with the local sea life. Besides, she was carrying her own burden, a pair of dwarf lime trees that Yanko had purchased at the same market where he had acquired his barrel of fish.

  “Arayevo, did you see what Yanko did?” Lakeo pointed out toward the wreck. A pair of harbor watch dinghies were on their way out to search for survivors.

  “Yanko did that?” Arayevo asked.

  “His eight-legged friend did. Or would it be eight-armed?”

  Still walking, Yanko passed out of earshot and missed the rest of the conversation. That was a good thing. Even better would be if Lakeo did not mention the incident again. With all the trouble he was already in, Yanko did not want to be given credit for destroying a ship, a ship that had people on board who were friends with the Nurian ambassador and the local police.

  About three days later—at least that was how it felt—Yanko made it to the end of the pier and set down the barrel. He could feel the kraken out there, beneath the surface. He did not know whether to toss fish out one at a time or toss the barrel, so he formed both images in his mind and offered them to the creature. The return image came promptly and forcefully—all the fish, all at once, and if Yanko fell in, the kraken would happily eat him too.

  So, maybe it wasn’t just like communicating with a mouse.

  Yanko heaved the barrel as far as he could, which, given the battering he had taken that night and the weight of the load, was not very far. A dark purple tentacle shot out of the water, the tip wrapping around its prize. The barrel disappeared so quickly, Yanko might have believed he had imagined everything. But a few seconds later, shattered pieces of wood floated up, all that remained of the meal.