The Way of the Blade

by Stuart Jaffe

  “Please. I’ve come a far way.”

  “Everyone comes a far way to get here. And all have a reason they feel is vital.” That clicking sound under her voice grated in Javery’s ears. She stood inches from him now and crouched so the back of her antlered head was on level with his face. She smelled of turned soil and decay.

  Javery tried to remember what he knew of her. “The tests. I’m willing to take any test, face any challenge you require.”

  “Fairy tales. There are no tests. If you wish to learn, then I will teach.”

  “That’s it? I only had to ask?”

  Never moving faster than when she walked in, she now turned to face him, and he saw the worst part of her — her eyes. They glowed like dying embers, and he swore he could see smoke trailing from them. Carsite help him, he could smell it — old wood in a campfire. They rolled in on themselves, the heat melting and reforming before him. Even if he hadn’t been chained, he knew fear froze him in place.

  She made a sniffing sound, and only then did Javery notice she lacked a nose. Just a skeletal opening. “You’ve healed well.”

  Those eyes gave him nothing — no sense of where she looked or what she might be thinking. “Thank you for that.”

  “You wish to learn and you thank me. Hmm. I think I’ve chosen well.”

  “Chosen?”

  “I don’t save people who can’t reach my home. But you — three days ago I saw you crash and swim and fight your way up here.”

  “Three days? I’ve been unconscious that long?”

  “No. You’ve been unconscious for about twelve hours. I saw your crash and struggles in a vision. And I’ve learned to respect the visions magic bestows upon me.”

  “It can do that? Let you see the future?”

  “Magic is unlike anything you think of it. With your Great Well and your Snake-Magic, you think you’ve seen what power is, but I assure you, you understand nothing. That is why there is no test. The magic itself is enough of a test. If you pass, you live. Fail, and well, you’ve climbed over many failures to reach here.”

  He could only nod. Apparently, it was enough. She backed up several steps and made a motion with her hand. The chains loosened, and Javery dropped to the soft cushions and pillows below.

  “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head.

  “As you learn, you will be free to roam my island, though I suggest you wait until you’ve acquired some basic skills.”

  Javery rubbed his wrists and ankles as he listened. Then he asked, “Is it just us here? Do you have anyone else?”

  “Servants? Magic provides all I need. And so it will for you. There is only one rule to follow.” She raised her disfigured arm and pointed an extra-long finger at a simple, wooden door. “You must never go in there. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll do anything you say, if it means I will learn to wield true power.”

  The Witch paused, as if contemplating how to take full advantage of such an offer. At length, she simply said, “Then let’s begin.”

  Chapter 25

  Malja

  Malja stood by the railing on a twelve-seat autofly. A small fleet of ten autoflys crossed the countryside with Krunlo and Canto leading the way. They had been flying for five hours and the day had little left to give. Fawbry and Tommy sat close by while a pilot chosen by Canto guided them along. Behind, the rest of the fleet followed, each with five to six men aboard.

  Fawbry joined Malja at the railing. “You look troubled. Well, more than usual.”

  Malja watched the land flow underneath. The rocky outgrowths sticking up at odd angles. The sporadic homes scattered haphazardly about by those who preferred isolation to community. “All that open land, and these people are at war over a few meager towns. It makes no sense. If the Scarites don’t like where they live because it’s too barren, why not come live here?”

  “This doesn’t look that much better, does it?”

  “But then, at least, they’d be on their home soil. Shouldn’t that be the point? They’d be in a position to make a lasting peace. They could even find a Great Well around here and start their own floating farms. They’d have a chance.”

  “The Scarites refused?”

  “Apparently.” Malja turned around, leaning her elbows back on the railing. “I didn’t really ask, but this war has gone on for decades, and they’re still living on that island. I can’t believe nobody ever came up with the idea.”

  “Then this isn’t about the land itself. It’s about the towns and their homes.”

  “That’s what troubles me. If the Scarites only wanted to be in this country, only wanted a viable place to live, I think we could get through to Canto and the others to give the Scarites some of this land that nobody wants. But the Scarites want their town back. They want to turn back what has happened and somehow get the Carsites to leave, to pretend they haven’t raised their own generations in these same towns, to walk away without leaving behind a mark of their existence. How do you find compromise in that?”

  Tommy had stretched his legs across two seats. Looking at Malja, he answered the question by shaking his head and cutting his hand across his throat.

  “I think so, too,” Fawbry said. “Compromise means sacrifice on both sides. It means that nobody gets what they truly want, but that they find a way to be satisfied with what they can have. I don’t think the Carsites or the Scarites are willing to sacrifice anything for the other.”

  Malja nodded grimly. “Not when they both share the same goal to be the sole people in control of these towns. And if the Scarite version of events is true, if the Carsites are really the oppressors, the instigators, then what does that mean for us?”

  “Don’t think like that. Power comes and goes. Look at our home. In Corlin, before the Devastation, the magicians ruled everything. They had all the power. After — magicians had to hide who they were or else get killed. Whatever the past, the Carsites are the ones in trouble now. They clearly lost a lot of their strength and focused on being farmers over the decades. They’re not the people who caused all this — just the descendants of those people.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what they did.”

  “Except we don’t know what they did. We don’t know which story is true.”

  Tommy moved his hand across his forehead as if grabbing his mind and tossing it away.

  Malja said, “I think you’re right. They’ve forgotten. They don’t know what the truth is anymore. Which brings me right back to where I keep ending up — what’s our job in all of this? What position do we take?”

  Fawbry chuckled. “You never do handle the politics well. Give you something to cut down, and you don’t hesitate, but when it comes to people, you need a guy like me.”

  Dozens of snide remarks filled Malja’s head, but she bit back on all of them. From the way Fawbry shrunk a little under her glare, she guessed her eyes gave away enough of her thoughts. “I’m listening,” she said.

  Fawbry puffed up and paced the deck of the autofly. “It’s not all that hard, really. We may not be real gods —”

  “May?”

  Tommy grinned.

  Like a teacher annoyed by a student, Fawbry frowned. “Fine. We are not gods, but to the Carsites, to their level of existence, we are exactly that. And if you don’t agree, you can certainly accept that we are, at least, far beyond their level. Such a difference in knowledge and experience by its very nature sets up certain relationships between the parties involved.”

  To Tommy, Malja said, “He really enjoys hearing himself speak.”

  “Very funny,” Fawbry said. “Look, the point is this — perhaps we should play the role of a god, or if you prefer, a parent. We can be disappointed in their past choices but accepting of them nonetheless. And always be there to help and guide them to better choices in the future.”

  “We’re not spending the next decade here training these people to be civil with each other.”

  “I’m not suggesting that.”

&n
bsp; “Why bother with this, anyway? Shouldn’t we just focus on taking down Harskill? That’s the real point, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what happens to the Carsites and Scarites as long as they aren’t being influenced by Harskill.”

  “You don’t believe that.” Fawbry sat and leaned forward, elbows to knees. “You know it matters. Life is always more complex because we have to deal with the results of our actions. I know you well enough. You couldn’t live knowing you left these people to suffer from something Harskill created.”

  Massaging her temples, Malja said, “I don’t know if you’re helping me or making it worse.”

  “Well —”

  From ahead, Krunlo bellowed, “It’s here!”

  All the autoflys circled a long swatch of land. Though Malja knew this had been the reason for coming out this way, she still found the sight a bit surprising. The front half of a cargo ship stuck out of the ground like an enormous version of the local rock formations.

  The vessel reminded Malja of the ship where she had found Tommy, only this one lacked the sophistication, the proper lines, and the twisted Captain. Wide and deep enough to carry tons of material, the ship also had a long, flat deck and what appeared to be a tiny house built on top — though most of that structure remained underground. Much of the wood looked rotted even from a distance, but the metal appeared intact with little visible rust.

  As the autoflys set down, Canto pointed to various men. “Get digging. You two, check to see what works inside. Be careful. You — I want a full inventory of what weaponry is aboard. This is our only hope against the Scarites, so let’s move it!” The men gave a full-hearted cheer and hurried to their jobs.

  Krunlo and Canto walked over to Malja. “You see,” Krunlo said, spreading his arms wide. “I told you this was out here.”

  “Why is that?” Malja asked. “Why have you waited until now? If I had grown up here, I would’ve gotten that ship ready to fight immediately.”

  With an embarrassed nod, Canto said, “Mostly because of Shual. It was his father’s generation that built this ship. They used it, and they were disturbed by its power. Part of one of the many truces we’ve had with the Scarites included the dismantling of this ship.”

  “But it wasn’t dismantled.”

  “We worried that the Scarites would go back on their deal with us — which they did. So, we set it out here to die.”

  “Knowing you could always come back here, if you needed.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But why haven’t you come back before now?”

  “The Scarites have never posed such a threat as what you’ve told us. And we’ve kept praying to Carsite that a peaceful solution could be found. This ship — this is really our failure.”

  A commotion broke out amongst the men near the stern. Malja noticed they all pointed to the sky. At first, she saw nothing, but Tommy seemed agitated, so she whipped out her spyglass and looked.

  An autofly approached, piloted by a young woman — one of the women who had helped Malja on her first day in the town. Tonirry was her name. As she came closer, Malja could make out her face — stressed, on the verge of screaming mad, perhaps.

  By the time Tonirry landed, everyone had gathered together to greet her. When she stepped off the autofly, her bloodied face and torn clothing chilled the mood. Canto pressed through the crowd. “What happened to you?”

  “The Scarites,” she said, choking each word. “They attacked.” As the shock settled over the men, Tonirry continued, “You were gone an hour, maybe two, and they came. So many of them.”

  “But you’re here, now,” Canto said. “So, you fought them off.”

  Tonirry held herself and shook. “Raxholden is gone. They killed everyone they found. I hid ... it doesn’t matter where I hid. I survived. And I came to warn you. The Scarites have a huge army. They’re going to kill us all.”

  With a motion from Canto, two men escorted Tonirry away. Nobody else moved. They stared at the ground or their hands, a few wiped back tears, but nobody moved. Even Canto seemed unsure.

  Malja sighed. Everything always landed on her. Raising her voice to its strongest command level, she said, “Back to work. All of you. Double your efforts. If you want any hope of getting your town back, of saving your loved ones, we need this warship. Move!”

  Canto snapped to life. “She’s right. Let’s get working.”

  As he threw orders around, Malja walked off several paces, pulling Fawbry and Tommy with her. “This is my fault,” she said.

  “Why, by Kryssta, would you even think that?” Fawbry said. “Because we weren’t there to be cut down with the rest of them?”

  “Because I went to the Scarite country, and I saw their army. After I left, Harskill had no choice but to attack. The previous skirmishes were simply poking at us to see our reaction and if there were any weakness to exploit. If I hadn’t seen that army, they may have continued poking for a long time. But after I was there, he had to attack or risk letting us build up enough defenses to hold him off.”

  Fawbry rubbed his neck. “Oh. Yeah, I think this one’s your fault, too.”

  She grabbed him by the chin, hard enough to make him groan, before Tommy pushed her back. He smacked his hands on the ground, shoved one under the other, and rushed through several more motions. Then he looked from Malja to Fawbry.

  “One more time,” Fawbry said while rubbing his jaw.

  Malja watched closer. Tommy made a motion of lifting his flat hand from the ground — a symbol they had started using for the portals. From there, the rest of the message was simple. As was Malja’s answer.

  “No.”

  Fawbry asked, “Can you even do that? Open a portal to a specific location in this world? I mean it’s one thing to open a portal to another world, not to say that’s easy, but you’re opening it randomly — aren’t you?”

  Tommy pointed to his blank arm, and as they looked at his skin, a tattoo of concentric circles appeared and then faded. He raised a finger to hold off their comments. On his skin, in the same place, a tattoo of arcing lightning appeared and then faded. A third tattoo, this one of jagged teeth in an angry mouth, appeared and then faded.

  “By Kryssta,” Fawbry whispered.

  Malja held the boy by his shoulders. “How many tattoos can you call up?”

  Tommy put his hands together as if about to pray, then slowly pulled them apart. Further and further — until they opened up completely. Then he shook his head in the negative as he pointed to his temple, stuck his tongue to the side, and crossed his eyes.

  “You don’t know you won’t go crazy,” Malja said.

  With an impatient sigh, he walked a short distance away and picked up a rock. He stared at his arm. Malja wanted to shove him, break his concentration, but she feared that might do more damage than simply stopping a spell. All her knowledge of magicians never included this kind of thing. How could she possibly know what might happen?

  Tommy opened his left hand, palm up, and a small blue glow appeared as if he held a tiny square of light. To Malja, it looked like a tiny portal. With his right hand, Tommy tossed the rock into the miniature portal. It sizzled when it hit. Then he pointed above Fawbry’s head. They all looked, even Fawbry. Just in time for a portal to appear and a sprinkling of pebbles to fall through, smacking him on the nose. Tommy stifled a laugh.

  “Can we stop picking on me?” Fawbry said, rubbing his nose. “And why did anything get through your portal?” Tommy pinched his fingers close together. “Too small?” Fawbry said. “Not enough to burn up the whole thing. Or are you getting even stronger? Soon you won’t need Malja to protect us when going through a portal. Right?”

  Malja barely heard a word he said. Her eyes were on the boy. “How long have been able to do this? How long could you control a portal, control magic like this?”

  Tommy shrugged, and something about the expression on his face made Malja think he told the truth. He had no idea when this happened. Perhaps he was only discovering it
himself. Considering all they had been through with Barris Mont sharing Tommy’s mind and the Bluesmen and Cole Watts, it didn’t seem that impossible.

  It’s not impossible at all. I just witnessed it.

  “Okay, then,” Malja said, hoping her voice sounded steady. “Tommy will create a portal, and he and I will go back to Raxholden to find out what’s going on. Fawbry, I need you to stay here and be in charge.”

  “They won’t listen to me.”

  “You’ll be fine. Let Canto and Krunlo lead the men as long they get that warship up and running.”

  “Then what am I in charge of?”

  “Making sure they bring it to us. If they try to screw us over, you sneak off and get to the town.”

  “If they’re trying to screw us, they’ll lock me up or kill me when the time comes.”

  “Then you better pay close attention and figure it out beforehand.”

  Fawbry tried to raise another objection, but Malja trudged off to Canto. She could feel Fawbry’s frustration burning into her back, and a small part of her felt bad. She halted and concentrated on that feeling. She actually felt a weight in her chest, near her heart, at the idea that she was putting her friend, her family, into a difficult situation like this. Of course, they had been in countless difficult situations, but perhaps this wasn’t necessary. Couldn’t she take Fawbry with her? Canto and Krunlo could handle the warship and meet up with them later. Except ...

  She turned back and headed straight to Fawbry. His face brightened until he saw her clearly. “I’m sorry that you have to stay,” she said. “It’s not so you can be in charge. I need you here so that I know what’s going on. All the three of us have is each other. We can’t trust the Carsites. They were going to kill you two over some apples. That’s why I need you here.”

  Fawbry planted his feet and stood proud. “Thank you. I won’t fail you.”

  “I know,” she said and headed off again.

  When she reached Krunlo, she informed him of her plan. She and Tommy would go back to Raxholden while he and Canto would bring the warship as soon as they could get it ready.