The Magic Mines of Asharim

by Pauline M. Ross

  I sat cross-legged, with my back to the tunnel wall, gazing into space. I was too miserable to begin to think what we might do next. All my hopes and dreams had depended on this one moment, and now everything was in pieces. It had all been for nothing, all my careful planning.

  “Here.” Zak pushed a bowl into my hands. “Eat something, and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll have a good look at this pile of rubble and see what can be done.”

  “Nothing can be done! It’s all been a waste! I should have stayed in Mesanthia.”

  He exhaled sharply, and for a moment there was irritation in his mind. But he controlled it, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “If no other good comes of all this, remember the Caxangur boy you rescued. Think what horrors you’ve spared him. And you’ve poisoned that evil old buzzard, so he won’t hurt anyone else. Then there’s this war of succession – that will allow our army to walk in and take the city once and for all.”

  “No! It’s too soon. I had it all planned out so carefully. I was going to marry Prince Kru Hruart – or any of the heirs, it didn’t matter which – and I could enthrall him and he would give me access to the Most Mighty, but not for another quarter moon at least. That would give the army time to get here. And there would still be a quarter moon or so for me to make the river run again, before the Choosing. But it’s not going to work!” I set my bowl down, and angrily wiped away tears. “It’s all my fault! I couldn’t wait… and now, by the time the army arrives, the war could be over. And I can’t even make the river run. Everything we’ve done has been for nothing.”

  “The army will be here.”

  “That’s impossible. I know how fast they can travel, where they are based. I calculated everything.”

  “Ah, but they left their bases a moon ago. Half the army is already encamped in the desert not three days’ march from here. They just await the signal. As soon as the old buzzard falls out of his tree, they will move in.”

  “But… how?”

  He gave a wry grin. “My mother. She’s been aware of our plans since you arrived at Brinmar. She and the Protectors put everything in place. However much I dislike that, there’s no doubt it’s been useful.”

  I was speechless. Was it possible something could be salvaged from this disaster after all? “So whatever happens here, whether I can divert the river or not, Hurk Hranda will fall? We will have control of it – the whole river. Then, the engineers can move in, and dismantle that wall of stone boulder by boulder. I don’t need to do this at all!”

  “Ah, well…” He looked rueful. “There is a problem with that. This Caxangur boy that you rescued – he was with an army group when he was captured, yes?”

  “Yes, a scouting party. In Hrandish territory, that’s why they were… oh. The Caxangur army? Here?” It was hard to believe. Caxangur and the Hrandish were the two major powers in the Two Rivers Basin, and they took great care not to encroach on the other’s territory.

  He nodded. “My friends here tell me there have been rumours in the city for several quarter moons now that Caxangur troops had left the Ashalar River basin and were headed east. Not a small contingent, either. So it’s possible the Mesanthian army will meet Caxangur troops out on the plains.”

  “Oh no!” My hands flew to my mouth. “That would be disastrous.”

  “Indeed. This little local war may well turn into something much larger and bloodier before long. But all that is beyond our control, so eat your stew, sweet lady, and tomorrow we will see what can be done about the river.”

  I ate, to please him, although I had little appetite. My stomach churned at the thought of a major conflict.

  There had always been squabbles, of course, and Mesanthia’s history was as blood-spattered as anyone’s. The Empire was built with the blood and bones of uncounted slain. But since the Empire fell, we had been circumspect and avoided much direct confrontation. The occasional spat with Graendar or the Port, and a few attempts to retake Hurk Hranda.

  But we had no quarrel with Caxangur. Their strength kept the canals moving, and prevented total anarchy in the Two Rivers Basin. We respected that. They, for their part, appreciated the role we played in keeping order along the coast. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and now it was about to be devastated. All because of my stupidity, poisoning the Most Mighty too soon because I hadn’t the strength to cope with his cruelty. My weakness would destroy us all.

  Zak cleared up, while I wallowed in self-pity, quite unable to drag my spirits out of the abyss.

  He tossed my cloak into my lap, his mind bubbling with fun again. He was irrepressible, and I loved that about him. “No more despair. It’s time for sleep. Tonight will be cold, so wrap up well.” A hesitation. “We could cuddle, if you wish. To keep warm.”

  My anger flared up like a bonfire. “Your mother’s instructions again?”

  He laughed, not at all discomposed. “My mother gives me many instructions, but I follow them… in my own way, shall we say. Look…”

  Dropping his own cloak, he sank to the ground and sat facing me, legs crossed so that our knees were almost touching. His face was no more than a couple of handspans from my own. I turned my head away.

  He took my hand, stroking each finger in turn. “I can think of a dozen reasons for us to lie together tonight, and none of them have anything to do with my mother. It’s cold up here, for one thing, and snuggling up will keep us warm. It will release some of that tension coiled up inside you, and make you feel better. If we smooth over our differences, we’ll be able to work better together. It’s safer than sleeping far apart. It will help us sleep.”

  Eyes narrowed, I looked him in the face. “Is that all I am to you,” I spat, “a sleeping potion? A warming stone?”

  His mouth twisted, and he looked down at my hand resting in his much larger one. “I know you had a rough time with that evil husband of yours. You don’t want to talk about it, I realise that. So if… if you don’t want me near you, I’ll understand.”

  “It’s not that. It was horrible, but… it wasn’t real, in a way. They gave me something to suppress my connections, like hassalma, so I didn’t feel any of it, if you understand me. I was there, but it didn’t touch me. Not the real me. I’d love you to lie with me, to wipe away the bad memories with something good. But I want you to want to. For yourself, I mean. Not just because it will help us sleep.”

  He reached out his hands and gently cupped my face. His hands were warm and dry and infinitely reassuring. My skin tingled under his touch. I wanted nothing more than to lean into him, and kiss him and let him do whatever he wanted. He was so hard to resist.

  “Allandra…” His voice was as smooth as cream. “I know what you want from me, and I can’t give it to you. I don’t have it in me to give. My heart was lost many years ago, and I’ll never love again in that way.”

  One finger traced the outline of my cheek. He was so close I could feel his breath, warm against my skin. He was leaning closer and closer. My heart was racing along like a horse at full gallop. I could barely breathe.

  “But there are other kinds of love,” he whispered. “There’s the kind that’s built on affection and respect, that grows over long years together. Would that be enough for you?”

  Long years together? What exactly was he suggesting? I looked into his eyes, but what I saw there was the same as in his mind: utter sincerity. Yes, and affection, too.

  “What… what do you mean?” My voice was no more than a thread.

  “Only that if – when – we get home to Mesanthia, I would be honoured to share your life, if that’s what you want. As long as you take me as I am, and don’t ask more of me than I can give.”

  My heart sang. He would marry me! We would be together for all our lives, and I would make him happy. I’d make him forget this lover, whoever he was. What kind of man was he, to inspire such devotion?

  A sudden shaming thought. “Your mother put you up to this.”

  Another flash of
irritation. “This is not about my mother.” His voice softened again. “Don’t let’s complicate this. My mother gives me advice—”

  “Instructions.”

  A shrug. “If you will. But nothing specific. She never told me to bed you, only to take care of you, to do everything in my power to make you happy. It seemed to me that making love to you was the best way to accomplish that. I thought it made you happy. It certainly made me happy. I’ve loved every moment of our pleasuring, and that’s the truth. I’d love to pleasure you now, if you’ll let me. Wouldn’t you like me to?”

  He was an expert seducer, I knew that. How many women had he drawn to his bed with his honeyed words, and his expert touch? I knew it, but I was too weak to resist him. My mind saw all too clearly the game he played, but my body was on fire for him, aching to feel his warmth, to surrender to his desire one more time, even if there was nothing deeper than that.

  So I allowed him to kiss me, and all that came after it. And he was right – I did feel better for it, curled up next to him, held tight in his arms. He was right about something else, too – the pleasure in his mind afterwards was almost as strong as mine. There was affection, too. Not love, but something.

  He lay in silence beside me, but he wasn’t asleep. I rolled over to look at him.

  “What is it?” His voice in the dark was gentle, teasing.

  “What was he like, your lover?”

  There was a surge of joy in his mind. “You really want to know? Well, then, he was a master swordsman. When I was fourteen, he was given the task of training me. He wasn’t much older than me – just four years – but he was already a champion many times over. He was so fast! Wonderful to watch.” Zak’s mind was filled with happiness, just thinking about this man. If only he felt a fraction of that love for me. “It was instantaneous for both of us. One look – we both knew. I’ve never met anyone like him. He was so… so good, so honourable. He always thought the best of people, and never understood how anyone could be devious, or cheat. He thought everyone was like him.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died. Seven years and three moons ago, he died.” Zak fell into silence.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “No, it’s all right. I don’t mind talking about it – about him. No one else ever mentions him. It’s as if he never existed, but for me, he was the whole world. My life is split into three parts: the grey, dull part before I knew him, the sunshine when we were together, and the darkness since. Everything else pales beside him, and the memories I have.”

  He pulled me closer, laying my head on his shoulder. “Everything I do – the risks I take, the sex, the hassalma – it all helps me forget that he’s gone. But especially this plan of yours – you cannot imagine how much I want you to succeed. Because the Hrandish killed him. They invited him here, to Hurk Hranda, for a tournament, and then they killed him because he was better than their precious warriors. They destroyed the very best thing – the only thing – in my life. So now I will help you to destroy them.”

  For a moment, hatred swirled through his mind.

  “What was his name?” I said, hoping to bring back the pleasant thoughts.

  “Hytharn. His name was Hytharn. Would you like to see him?”

  “What? Oh – your memory connection? How? What do I do?”

  “Just relax, and open your mind to me.”

  I wasn’t sure it would work, since I had a mental connection too. At first there was nothing. But gradually, I began to detect colours, then shapes, and as soon as I concentrated on them, images popped into my head as clearly as if I were seeing them in reality. They blurred to nothing around the edges, but the centre was as sharp as a painting.

  And there he was, tall, pale and blond, with a mane of golden hair like a lion. A Dresshtian. I hadn’t expected that. But handsome, in a way, with his wide grin and open face. At first, he just stood there, smiling, shaking his head so his hair tumbled about. Then he was fighting, a longsword in one hand and a curved dagger in the other, and, by the One, he was unbelievably fast. Was that Zak enhancing the memory, or was it truth? Then he was ripping off his helmet, tossing aside his weapons and advancing towards me with a smile of such dazzling joy that I felt a rush of affection for him, this man I’d never met, who was long since dead.

  Then he was gone, back into Zak’s memory to remain unblemished, always young and happy and gloriously alive.

  ~~~~~

  The mountain of exploded stone didn’t seem any less mountainous the following day. It still towered above us, imposing and immovable.

  Zak insisted we climb it, so that we would better understand its properties. I saw no point in it, but tamely I followed along, scrambling in his wake as he skipped lightly up the steep slope. The rocks had had two hundred years to settle and root themselves in their new surroundings, but even so, many still rocked precariously, or shifted under my feet, leaving me scrabbling for grip. There were places where I crawled on hands and knees, terrified of plummeting into the lake far below.

  Where I slithered like a snake, close to the ground, Zak leapt from rock to rock like a mountain goat. His mind bubbled with excitement, and whenever the ground shifted beneath him, he would leap for a more solid foothold, then laugh with delight when he was safe again. He was quite reckless.

  When we stood somewhere about the midpoint, he stopped, waiting for me to catch up with him. Below us to the south, the lake was grey and sullen under cloudy skies. To the north, nothing was visible except the dusty haze of the desert. We could have done with some of that desert heat. Up here in the arms of the mountains, it was always cold, even in mid-summer, and the wind carried the taste of snow from the highest peaks. I shivered, pulling my cloak tighter around me. I was always cold here.

  To the east was all that remained of the great cliff which had been reduced to rubble. I’d expected it to be sheer, as smooth as wood split by an axe. But it wasn’t. Instead it was marked with scores of long indentations, in a pattern.

  “What makes it look like that?” Zak muttered. “It’s very strange.”

  “I should think it’s the remains of the bore holes where they packed in the explosive material. Miners drill long holes in the rock, then fill them with explosives, and ignite them. Boom.”

  “And the cliff collapses. Very clever.”

  He stood staring up at that strange pocked wall for an age. Then abruptly he spun round. “Come on, let’s look over the edge.”

  Without waiting for me, he bounded off towards the desert-side slope. I followed more circumspectly, knowing what he would find there. “Be careful!” I called, but he was gone.

  He stopped right at the edge. I stood well back, not daring to go so close. “It’s perfectly safe,” he said, smiling.

  I didn’t believe him, but I inched nearer anyway, testing each spot before placing my foot on it. I stopped again, a few paces back from where he stood grinning with glee, as relaxed as if we were in the Keeper’s garden on ground that was level and not treacherously trying to tip us into an abyss at any moment.

  For there below us the slope of broken stone vanished. What remained was the original ring of stone enclosing the lake, falling steeply away in jagged steps to the foothills and dunes far below. Here was where the Mesanthia branch of the river had spouted over the edge in wet seasons, spilling in long, delicate cascades into deep pools, bouncing its way down the mountainside. From there, the river flowed across the desert, its path marked by dark outlines, the fringe of mature trees whose roots were deep enough to survive two centuries of drought.

  We were both thinking the same, I imagine: seeing that river filled with water, its banks populated again, the great old trees now sheltering new saplings.

  I refused to go any closer, so Zak came back to me. We sat on a protruding boulder and shared a flask of water and some dried fruit.

  “Now, tell me about your flickers,” he said. “What can they do?”

  “What does it matt
er? This is too much for them.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “All right. I have two types for this purpose. One type can dissolve rock – turn it to dust. The other type can melt and reshape it. I have several of each type.”

  “Can they go underwater?”

  “I… don’t know. I’ll ask them.” I visualised a flicker entering the lake, and they all hummed excitedly. No sign of agitation there. “Yes, they can go into the water.”

  “I’m surprised you never thought to use one to block your mental ability. So you would be able to shut it off.”

  “I thought of it, yes. But… I was afraid to try. Tampering with my own mind… and what if it were permanent?”

  “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” he said.

  “No! It’s a part of what I am. I couldn’t imagine myself without that capability. To be shut off from every emotion… to never again share another’s love or excitement or happiness? It’s unthinkable.”

  And after Brinmar, when I’d discovered the bubbling humour and zest for life in Zak’s mind, I had another, very special, reason to want to keep my ability.

  He nodded. “So, rock dissolving and melting. Excellent. Then we have a possible plan.”

  “We do? What do you have in mind?”

  He laughed. “It’s amusing actually. All of this is here because the engineers exploded it. Well, we are going to explode it away.”

  47: Stones

  I stared at him, bewildered. “Don’t tease me! It’s unkind of you.”

  “No, no, no.” He reached for my hand, then drew it to his lips. “I’m not teasing. But those marks on the cliff wall gave me an idea. With your flickers and my connection, I think—”

  “Your connection? Water? Are you going to move the lake?”

  “Not move it, no. But I can do all kinds of things with it – boil it, freeze it, turn it into rain—”