Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  She knew if she didn't cool him down, he wouldn't live the night. He might not even live the next few moments.

  All she could think to do was run with her bowl and water skin to the stream. In her haste, she'd forgotten how close the river was and she fumbled blindly for a few moments before splashing in and feeling the shock of cold. Close, so close. And not yet close enough. She wouldn't be able to keep him cool enough by running back and forth, filling and refilling her bowl.

  She dipped both vessels in together and had to guess about how much it would take to fill the skin. A few splashings later and she was on the bank, plodding, nearly blind in the direction she thought her mat waited.

  She stubbed her bare toe and cursed. Where was her mat, anyway? Her eyes stung from pain and trying to squint into the shadows. She'd obviously gone in the wrong direction. A low snort came from her right hand. Barruch. "Good boy," she said to the sound.

  She waited, poised to sprint. Another low snort and whinny, closer this time.

  She smelled horseflesh and reached out, holding the water skin aloft. Barruch's nose ran along her wrist, and she felt the heat of his breath. He turned and Alaysha took careful steps with him. Best to stay calm. Her concern for Yenic was working against her, not helping. Stay calm. Stay focused. One step. Two.

  Barruch stopped after a dozen paces. Alaysha peered into the darkness and thought she saw a rounded blacker-than-the-darkness mound.

  She rushed to it, hoping she was right, and placed the water down next to what she thought was Yenic's head.

  She fumbled for him. The heat came at her in waves before she even touched the skin of his face.

  "Yenic," she said.

  He moaned and relief flooded her; at least he was alive. She couldn't afford to waste any time. She knew the small amount of water she carried wouldn't be enough. He needed to be bathed in it, submerged. There was only one thing she could think to do.

  "I'm sorry," she told him, then grasped him as gently as she could beneath the shoulders. Like she'd done to the crones in the village, she buck-dragged him toward where the water smelled strongest. The sound of the current grew louder with each yank, and she began to believe she could manage it.

  The spasms took him when she was at least one hard pull away. The spasm felt different than before. It straightened his legs and stiffened his shoulders. She let go of him and reached for his chest. Her palm rested on his solar plexus, waited impatiently for a rise and fall, for a thump beneath.

  Nothing.

  Her palm hovered over his mouth, and she waited for a rush of air.

  None.

  Her finger scrabbled for his throat just behind his earlobe.

  A flutter, but not much after it except for a thready, cautious trembling.

  She reached for his mouth and pulled his mouth open, easing her own down over his so that no air could escape. She inhaled through her nose and sent a silent plea to the Deities to fill her lungs with sweet air. She exhaled.

  It was nothing like the time his mouth had been on hers before. Back then his lips were moist and warm, pleasant in a heart-stopping way. This time those same lips were dry and hot and frightening in a heart-stopping way. This time there was no pleasure, only steely focus. She breathed in, lifted her mouth from his, waited, breathed in again.

  Each time she thought the fire within him would ignite her mouth and lungs. Each time she felt her own air rise in temperature when it met his mouth, but she exhaled anyway, hoping the heat wouldn't burn his lungs.

  She was near exhaustion when she thought she felt it: a short, rasp against her cheek. She nearly laughed out loud from relief.

  "Yenic?"

  A louder breath this time, one she couldn't misinterpret. Thank the Deities.

  Now if she could just get him to the water.

  She grasped him again, and pulled with all she had left, stepped backwards, yanked again. Stepped again, and felt the gasping coldness of the stream. This time she did laugh.

  She let her fingers walk to his legs and pulled them so they could find the water. He slipped easily into the stream then; she could hold his head and torso close to the bank, but leave most of his body in the water, could hear the current fetching against him and complaining. It was the sweetest sound she'd heard in days.

  She stroked his hair, feeling over and over again for a pulse at his neck, never quite daring to believe it was getting stronger.

  The sun was bleeding onto the horizon when his eyes fluttered open. Only then did she pull him back onto the bank, strip him, and with his help, settle him back into the fur. She worked on a small, but passable fire to keep any chill from devouring his body after the rapid cool down of the stream. After, without a word, she settled next to him.

  She tried to be gentle when she shook him awake. Exhausted as she was, she'd slept longer than she'd hoped. In the light of full morning, she realized the full extent of his wounds. Both eyes were swollen and a large gash over his right brow had bled and caked overnight. The tattaus on his ribs were distorted from the swelling. She had an incredible urge to feed him, to touch him, to make him feel better.

  "Are you hungry?" She thought she had some frog legs left over.

  He shook his head. "Thirsty."

  She had a water skin she'd filled from the stream. He drank almost all of it.

  "You had quite a battle," she said. She couldn't help the pride in her voice when she said it.

  He closed his eyes thoughtfully. "So did they."

  "Will Edulph let me be if I agree?"

  "I don't know. If you had control of such a weapon as a temptress of the life blood, would you relinquish it?"

  Her father hadn't, that much she knew. She shook her head. "Probably not. Not if I were one of his kind."

  "So we must make you a less valuable weapon," he said, and tried to ease up onto his elbow but had to be content to study her face from a flat-back position.

  "How?"

  "There are two ways. One is to become so controlling of the power, no one else can control you. I've known a witch to be able to bring lightening to a man and set stones ablaze."

  "I can't do that."

  "Of course not; you are a temptress of fluid, not of fire." He tried unsuccessfully to get up again and fell back with a groan.

  "Everything is spinning." He peered at her. "And you seem to have two noses. Beautiful as they are, it's unnerving."

  "You're going to hurt yourself." She was set to help him, all perched on her elbows, leaning forward.

  He let go a raspy chuckle. "Already accomplished."

  She thought about his words. "Temptress of fire? Is there such a thing?"

  "There are more. Earth. Water. Fire. Air. I told you: balance." He pulled the fur beneath his chin and shivered. Alaysha looked down at him. His fever had broken but wasn't gone entirely. He was in no shape to stay alone; he was in no shape to continue.

  "You have to stay here."

  "No," he said, but he didn't open his eyes.

  "Then follow when you're better." She hated leaving him, but she knew if he'd made it through the worst of last night, he had a good chance—even if it was a long recuperation—of making it through these next days.

  "I am better."

  She slipped out from beneath the blanket and strode toward Barruch who was munching contentedly on grass. He didn't look pleased at his impending journey. "Not long now, old man," she said. "A couple of hours of riding." She stole a look over her shoulder at Yenic to be sure he was still where she'd left him, then she worked at saddling Barruch.

  "You're better than last night, but not better enough to come. Aedus and I will go to Sarum. I will bide my time until we can escape."

  "Your father?"

  The voice came from so close behind her, she startled. She turned and saw he was standing right there, wrapped in the blanket. He was weaving to and fro and blinking repeatedly. Trying to stay awake, probably.

  "My father means nothing to me now. What do I care if
one more man dies? One more tribe?"

  He collapsed onto the ground, the fur puffing out around him. His words were slurred from fatigue and he kept rubbing his eyes. Once, he peered, transfixed, at a spot somewhere beyond Alaysha. "You'll be trading one master for another, I expect." He squinted into the distance.

  She shrugged and untied her scabbard and sword from Barruch's pack, then laid it in easy reach should Yenic need to use it. She gave him a long look, then turned, mounted, and pulled the reins tight. Only then would she speak to his comment.

  "It's a temporary enslavement. Once Edulph's guard is down, I'll send Aedus to you."

  He seemed to accept that. "Mind the huts; take care those within don't see you."

  She looked over her shoulder. There were no huts anywhere near. No people. She shrugged. He must be concerned about her going toward the village near the oasis. He'd want that spot protected—wouldn't want Edulph or his men to know that's where they were headed or where they'd end up meeting for fear they'd come and start the thing all over again.

  "I'll be careful."

  "What are you going to do, Alaysha?"

  She couldn't help the grin stealing her face, or the sense of burning anger that spread it. "I plan to suck them all dry."

  13

  She could tell she was close to the encampment because of the noise. A set-down always owned its share of extraordinary sounds that didn't belong in nature: the low hum of speech, the high-pitch of tempers flaring. Sometimes there was a soft rush of fragrance on the breeze that smelled of new fire and roasted meat. The one thing that gave away a moving camp set down for a short siege was the whine of beasts, and Barruch's ears always perked and twitched at that sound. If Alaysha reached out to test the air for water, she would taste sweat and cooking water in overabundance.

  But she didn't need to.

  She planned to find Aedus first, to see if she could be squirreled away quietly without Alaysha having to reveal herself. She reckoned she had a few hours until sunset, and she planned to use the time to her advantage. She dismounted and looked around for a good spot to tether Barruch. She had seen a knoll about a half kubit back that had sufficient tree cover. She could walk him back there and hide him by piling branches all around. Perhaps she'd use Aedus's trick of slicking her hair back with mud. Maybe cover herself with it so she'd blend in to the wood cover.

  She found a mud hole of considerable size. Left from the last rain, it was dried of liquid, but the hollow left in the land was filled with debris and leaf litter that had rotted there. The combination made a revolting mess that slid easily over her hair, but it also stunk. Barruch backed away from her when she tried to hide him behind tree branches.

  The snap of a twig behind her made her jump. Yenic. How had he made it so far in his condition?

  I told you to stay put." She turned to scold him.

  No one was there.

  She squinted into the underbrush, searching for a hare or deer. No other sound came. If it was Yenic, he'd have answered. If it was an animal, it would have moved by now.

  She stepped closer to Barruch, thinking to pull her sword from its scabbard, and when she did, remembered she'd left it with Yenic. She contented herself with the small dirk she used to cut fruit, and palmed it quickly, the handle set behind her wrist.

  The light shifted enough that she could make out a set of eyes in the trees. Then another. Two, she could manage without her power; three, and she wasn't sure she'd have a chance. So much for sneaking into camp. She just hoped they'd not take another of Aedus's fingers for her subterfuge.

  "Is this how you've evaded us, Witch?"

  Alaysha peered, leaning into the shadows.

  The voice was a familiar one. The speaker shifted from shade to shade and finally out into the light.

  "You cover yourself with filth to hide in the shadows. Pitiful for a witch, I'd say."

  She knew him now, and she knew as soon as she saw him that all chance of freeing Aedus was gone.

  She tried to keep her voice level when she spoke. "You've been looking for me?" She asked Drahl. "Why? I thought Father wanted me to find number nineteen." She'd almost said Yenic, but caught herself just in time.

  "It's taking too long. He wants to see the eyes and know it's done."

  She shrugged, but a flash of insight came so quickly, she was afraid she'd given herself away. "Number nineteen is with this band. Hiding from us within their ranks."

  "Then kill them and be done with it." His gaze narrowed, and she thought she saw suspicion behind his eyes.

  "I would have, except I thought I saw your property with them as well. I wanted to be sure before I attacked."

  "My property?"

  "Yes." She tried to watch his face for reaction without appearing to be studying him. "I believe they have someone who belongs to you."

  "I have enough slaves." He waved his hand dismissively, "What do I care for one more?"

  She turned away from him. "That makes it easy then." She looked back over her shoulder. "You might want to move back a few kubits." She nodded her head at the other set of eyes. "Him too."

  Drahl grunted, apparently satisfied she was about to complete the task she’d been sent out on. He inclined his head toward the trees, and three more men slipped out from behind tree trunks.

  She took a decided step in the opposite direction of the rogue’s camp, praying to the Deities that Drahl would move his men toward the camp. She had no doubt about their reception once the sentries caught sight of them.

  "Take yourselves at least a couple of kubits in to be safe."

  She took a breath and trudged forward, thinking she’d double back when they were out of sight and in the chaos, she was sure to get to Aedus, sure she’d be left unguarded.

  Drahl and his men didn’t even bother trying to be quiet, they were so confident the enemy would soon be dead and they'd be well enough away to escape all danger from the witch. She could hear them laughing among themselves, crashing through the thicket. Walking their mounts noisily through the brush.

  Good. They’d be noticed. And quickly. That meant she had to hurry. Once she could only hear them from a good distance, she turned to the right and circled. She knew the camp was at the break of the treeline, with sentries posted everywhere in the bushes. The natural sneakiness of a rogue band meant they’d want to disappear quickly and melt into nature. So while they hadn’t given consideration to how smart it would be to camp far enough into a clearing that they couldn’t be taken by surprise, they at least understood the value of escaping should they be come upon. Or they were just stupid, making the wrong assumption that they were the ones with the advantage.

  Twice, she caught an overhanging branch in the face in her haste, and once she stumbled over a root she wasn’t watching for. But soon, she was close enough she could almost smell the roasting fire. From her spot in the trees, she could tell the sun hadn’t set yet. Still some time before Edulph took the next digit. If she was lucky. Now all she had to do was wait until the sentries either found Drahl, or Drahl walked unawares into the plain.

  She crept closer, close enough she could see the fire. The horses were resting, tied to fallen trees. Just under two dozen still, so she knew they were all close to camp.

  She crouched behind a large rock trying to see past the horses, to the fire. Luckily, they were a small enough group that they kept together when they camped and didn’t sprawl out like an army did. She knew she should be looking to count forty or so bodies in all, including Aedus, but there was no telling how many would be in the trees. Some were hunched, cloaked, around the fire. She could make out three of these in the encroaching gloom. Was one of them Edulph? She couldn’t know for sure.

  A racket to her left told her Drahl and his party had been spotted. Shouts met her ears, as did the clanging tension of metal in the air. Only the discipline of a dozen battles and hundreds of training sessions let Alaysha keep her attention on the fire.

  Several forms lifted from places s
he’d not noticed: behind trees, crouched next to fallen logs, shadows that were pools on the ground: all lifted, and lighted, grabbing blades and rushing the darkness.

  All but one form that no longer crouched at the fire. Aedus. She scrambled, fell, and scrambled again toward the horses, where she fell again and lay still beneath the belly of the largest mount.

  Alaysha wasted no time.

  She sped into the clearing and threw herself beneath the beast. The feel of the scrawny shoulders beneath her hands was a relief; the frightened eyes peering up at her, a shock.

  "You’re not Aedus." Alaysha could hear the disappointment in her own voice.

  The girl shook her head.

  "Aedus is gone."

  "Gone?" Alasha had a hard time keeping her voice down or the despair out of it.

  "With Edulph."

  The skirmish had escalated into a fully fledged battle. Several men had leaked from the treeline into the clearing and the shouts had turned to the low grumble of grunts that came with the effort of battle. Drahl was a scout, not a warrior. He’d not be able to hold his own for long. Soon it would be over and she still hadn’t found Aedus.

  "Where did they go?"

  The girl shook her head. "Into the woods."

  She pointed toward where Alaysha had come from.

  She grabbed the girl’s hand, counted the fingers with her own. Grabbed for the other. All ten were there. She groaned; so it had been Aedus's finger sent with Yenic and not a substitute.

  "But why?" Alaysha sat back on her haunches, deflated. It made no sense. Unless he expected her to try and sneak in, but in that case, why not just lay a trap so she wouldn’t succeed?

  He was far more unpredictable than she’d thought. It seemed he planned to lure her ever closer to Sarum while he made it impossible to get to Aedus, and made Alaysha’s desperation to get to her all the more urgent.

  She huffed and scanned the trees and plain. There were several bodies on the ground and at least a dozen fights still being fought. Those were tiring, however, and a victor would soon be clear.

  She heard a gathering shout from a voice she recognized and knew it was Drahl calling his men to retreat. It was clear the rogues would be too tired to follow and were disinclined to finish them off.