Bannor smacked his lips, making a sour face. “Pardon, Matradomma, the taste is what I object to.”
“Here you go,” Wren handed it across the fire to him. “As promised.”
He took the flask. It felt cold in his hand. Each time, drinking this vile concoction seemed like a test of what he could keep down without vomiting.
“While the Goodman is steeling himself,” Laramis said, pulling at the ends of his blond mustache. “I should mention one thing. I am loathe to criticize, but there seems to be severe snag in our plan.”
The Queen focused on Laramis. “What’s that?”
“On the way here, I asked myself why this entrance goes unused. Climbing that woebegone path gave me my answer. Getting the horses through the caves was one thing. Getting them down that hill is another. They’re horses, Matradomma—not goats.”
* * *
I have always fancied my self a problem solver;
I am better than most at making sure the optimum tool for each task is used. For those times when the best tool isn’t available—I carry a hefty mallet…
—From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’
Chapter Fifty-Five
« ^ »
As the group huddled together around the fire, a silence fell over everyone. The Queen who typically had an answer or at least a word for every occasion, sat motionless with the firelight reflecting in her violet eyes. Blonde Wren ran a hand through her hair, and the corner of her mouth twitched. Janai and Sarai looked at one another, keeping an eye on their mother as if they thought she might explode. Though he knew he shouldn’t have, Bannor still enjoyed seeing Laramis catch the Queen in a miscalculation.
In his short acquaintance with Kalindinai, Bannor had concluded that she thrived on control. Manipulation came as naturally to her as breathing did to other people.
The hints of it he’d seen in Sarai, and later in Janai, convinced him of that. The daughters took after their mother. In the seasons they’d lived and loved together, Bannor never saw the controlling, royal ‘we’ side of Sarai. It wasn’t until Mazerak confronted Sarai with her identity as a daughter of Malan, that she allowed that part of herself to show. Looking back on their months together, he saw how much of herself she kept hidden. He also saw how she’d controlled him. Control that, at the time, he had never realized she was exerting. What confused him was his reaction to the realization.
Ambivalence.
Shouldn’t he be surprised, chagrined—outraged? Was doing another’s bidding willingly a bad thing? Wanting to please them? Are you being taken advantage of, if you’re happy to go along?
These thoughts sparked through his mind as he turned his attention away from the Queen and back to the seething orange liquid in the vial he held. Healing potion—lovingly known as dragon whiz. He’d rather drink privy water than down this stuff.
Twinges from his face and between his legs reminded him of how much he needed healing. He unstoppered the vial.
The Queen still hadn’t said anything. She simply looked at Laramis with a flat expression. From the furrow in the paladin’s brow, he didn’t enjoy disappointing the Queen.
Kalindinai took a deep breath, the first she’d taken in a long while. “I cannot believe it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced back at the horses.
“Now that Bannor and I are rebonded,” Sarai said. “I don’t think I have enough strength to reshape the hillside.”
He glanced at Sarai. The sharpness in her tone sounded accusatory. No one said anything about any side affects of the Queen’s magic on them. Perhaps that might be linked to how upset Janai had been when he first awoke after the Queen’s spell.
“We could get them down the hill in the daylight,” said Laramis. “It would remain a chancy endeavor though.”
“Maybe we can sneak out another way,” Janai offered.
“Details,” Wren muttered.
Everyone stared at the savant.
Wren picked up her water skin and took a pull from the nozzle. “I’ll get the horses down the hill.”
The Queen’s eyebrow rose. “How?”
“Savant magic. Sarai’s seen me do it. Remember the sea cliff?”
Sarai snorted. “Showoff.”
“See, she remembers.” Wren turned her attention to Bannor. “Staring at that potion won’t get you healed.”
“Uh huh.”
“Drink up.”
“Uh uh.”
Sarai slid next to him and put her arm around his waist. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “Don’t be that way.”
He sighed. “Hate this stuff.” He pinched his nose to keep the smell from stopping him. He lowered his Nola’s defenses the way Wren taught him, and tilted his head back to take the whole vial in one gulp.
The liquid went down like burning sewage.
“Bleahk!” He coughed. A ball of heat spread outward from his stomach. It felt as if an army of insects marched beneath his skin. The areas where he’d been injured glowed bright green. The pain from those areas diminished as he felt the flesh shifting and moving.
It took several long moments for the effects to run their course. Bannor felt his face, the skin remained tender. The wounds had knit some. The pain from his groin was now tolerable.
Sarai put a hand to his cheek, scanning his face. She pursed her lips. “Looks as if we may need to sew you up anyway. I don’t want this to scar.” She ran a finger along the split between his eyes.
He took her hand and kissed it. A cold feeling on the back of his neck made him look up. His gaze met the Queen who was studying him. Her expression was difficult to read. He smiled. Kalindinai didn’t return the gesture. She simply focused her attention elsewhere. He let out a breath. Sarai’s mother would be difficult to get used to.
“Let’s get our coats,” Wren said. “I’ll take the first horse down.”
“You’re certain you can do that?” the Queen asked.
Wren nodded. She rose and headed toward the horses. Laramis and Janai followed her. Together they broke out the cold weather gear. Leggings, jackets, masks, and gloves lay among the paraphernalia kept with the packhorse.
Bannor stood, and Sarai came with him. He wobbled a little, but could move without too much difficulty. The Queen rose last. Her gaze lingered on the night sky visible out the cave opening. She seemed suddenly very preoccupied with something.
He and Sarai joined the others and started pulling on the thick furs and leathers.
“Only problem with this plan,” Wren was mumbling. “Is I have to climb that hill once for every blasted horse. Handling the shock will be tough enough.” She fastened the last of the ties on her coat and pulled the hood up. With the fur pulled down over her eyes she looked like a miniature broadpaw. She shook her head. “No rest for the sinful.”
Bannor buttoned up the jacket. As with many things of elven manufacture, extraordinary time and effort had been taken to refine the materials. The layered cloth kept out the wind and cold, but was also light. The sewing was so deft one needed to search hard simply to find a seam.
His gaze fell on Meliandri lying against the cave wall, body lax and eyes closed. Sarai’s belt of silver rings held the woman’s feet together while silver jewelry chains bound her wrists. A silver braid necklace looped twice around her throat.
It all seemed a rather flimsy defense against a being that shook mountains.
“What’s the matter, my One?”
Bannor glanced at his mate, and nodded toward Meliandri. “She is. Does your mother intend to drag her the whole way? Why? Won’t she give our location away to the avatars?”
Sarai looked toward her mother who’d put on her parka and was rummaging through the one of the saddlebags on the horses. She put a hand on his arm. “I’m certain she has a good reason.”
He kept his voice to an urgent whisper. “Sarai, she can kill us all!”
Her eyes narrowed and she spoke in firm tone, “I trust Mother’s judgment.”
&nb
sp; “Fine, but someone should be keeping an eye on her. She’s been out a long time.”
Sarai pursed her lips and studied Meliandri. She patted his shoulder. “You’re right, my One. We’ll have to set up watches.” She turned to the back of the cave. “Come. Help me put the supplies on the pack horse.”
Hesitantly, he pulled away from Meliandri. They went back among the horses. The heavy scent of equines filled the air. All were purebred thickmanes, barrel-bodied and muscular, with long tufts of white hair shrouding their fetlocks and hooves. He ran a hand down the silky back of the horse nearest him. The animal snorted and bobbed its head, toeing from the right foot to the left. These weren’t riding horses. Riding such a broad beamed animal for an extended time was uncomfortable. On the other hand, thickmanes handled cold weather well and possessed incredible endurance. They also moved sure-footed in terrain where other horses wouldn’t go.
“Been a while since I rode a horse,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have a problem. These are handpicked stock,” Sarai said. “Even-tempered and well trained. They don’t shy at the smell of blood, and aren’t easily startled.”
They turned to the chore of securing the equipment brought from the caves in the saddlepacks. Laramis checked the animals, greeting each in the horseman’s ritual. He stopped in front of each, petting its nose and mane and introducing himself. With the mares, he pulled their heads down and whispered something in their ear. Stories abounded about what the best horsemen said to their fillies, but whatever it happened to be, it appeared to work. They could get their horses to do everything except play dice.
As they led the first horse out to Wren, she was saying to the Queen, “Don’t be surprised if we bounce. We’ll probably end up in those trees if we do.” She pointed.
“Bounce?” The Queen looked over the edge. “I fail to see how a horse and rider would do anything except flatten on those rocks down there.”
“It has to do with channeled force, Matradomma. All the energy of our fall being dispersed.”
“As long as you’re certain you know what you’re doing,” the Queen said. “How it works is immaterial.”
“I want to see how she gets a horse to jump off a cliff,” Bannor said. “It’s tough to rationalize to a horse.”
“Fetter will do as he’s asked,” Laramis said. He thumped the horse’s broad shoulder. The animal trembled.
Was Laramis actually talking to these thickmanes?
Wren walked around the animal Laramis called Fetter, petting and soothing. She then climbed into saddle, lay flat and hugged his mane. Moments passed. The horse’s ears lay back. It stomped and snorted. Wren’s Nola flickered around her. The blue light licked out and surrounded the horse as well.
Bannor swallowed and looked down the huge boulder studded drop off. Could her magic really protect her and a horse? Next to him Sarai gripped his arm. Janai stepped next to her mother and the two eyed one another. Laramis stood like a statue, his arms folded and watching the cliff. The paladin’s lips moved, the words silent, but obviously a prayer of some type.
Bannor’s heart raced as Wren straightened in the saddle.
“Hee-yah!” She spurred Fetter forward.
With a whinny of fear, the animal charged forward and leaped into space. Bannor’s stomach lurched as he watched the silhouette of horse and rider arc out over the drop-off. Fetter’s legs thrashed the air as the two bodies plunged.
The dim blue glow around the two grew brighter as they fell. In the last instants of the drop, it appeared that a star was falling from the heavens.
They struck with a brilliant flash. Rocks, brush, and dust erupted in all directions from the point of impact. As Wren predicted, the sphere of gleaming energy bounced, leaping again from the point of collision, then tumbling and skipping toward the trees. The horse continued to neigh in fear as they crashed to a stop among the trees.
After a few moments, the horse went silent.
“Do you think she’s all right?” Janai asked, eyes wide.
“Of course she is,” Laramis said.
The Queen didn’t say anything. She stared down the cliff to the blackened depression where the two hit.
He felt himself trembling. “We can’t do this six more times. Any patrols will see or hear it for sure.”
“Assuming they’ve already seen it,” Sarai said. “How long before they’ll be here to investigate?”
“She might be able to do it once more,” Laramis said.
“No,” Bannor said. “It will take time to calm the horse after that. Even if they aren’t damaged, it will take too long. We need another way.”
The Queen looked at him. The glow from her eyes cast shadows and reflections on her pale skin. The cool night air teased a few strands of silvery hair that had escaped the hood of her parka. “Suggestions?” she said.
He looked around. “I don’t know.”
There was a whinny below. Wren and her horse trotted out of the trees. How did she calm the animal so quickly? She tied the horse to bush safely away from the zone of destruction and started the long climb.
“Bannor,” the Queen said. “You will get us off this cliff.”
A chill shot down his spine. “Pardon?”
“The Garmtur can get us off this hill can it not?”
“I—” he stammered. “Yes, but it isn’t safe. I don’t have a clue as to how to—”
“No excuses. You will get us down.” She narrowed her eyes. “As soon as Wren is here.”
“Matradomma,” Laramis started. “I don’t believe, we should—”
“You were not given leave to speak,” the Queen snapped.
The paladin lapsed into silence.
Sarai’s lips pressed to a line. She twined her fingers in his and squeezed. Her palms abruptly felt moist. She looked a heartbeat away from exploding. She stared daggers at her Mother, who only stared back.
Bannor felt torn between defiance of the Queen and loyalty to Sarai. To ignore Kalindinai’s direct order would undoubtedly have dire consequences to him and Sarai. Following her instruction though, might get them all killed.
The incident with the avatar, and almost cooking himself sparked through his mind. He’d remember that burning sensation for a long time. Bannor resolved never to make that mistake again.
If he wanted to, how would he get all the people and horses to the bottom? While standing at the King’s court, Sarai had willed his power to move the Queen. She had magically appeared after having vanished from somewhere else in the caverns. Kalindinai was probably basing his ability to get them down the hill on that event.
To transport a large load in a similar fashion would take a great deal of power. Maybe more than he possessed.
“I hope you’re considering how this will be done,” Kalindinai said. “There’s not much time.”
Bannor only stared at her. She was testing him. Should he bend to her manipulation? What response did she want, compliance or defiance?
Wren huffed to the top of the ledge and looked at the five of them standing together in a stiff circle. The woman’s shoulders looked slumped from exertion and a sheen of perspiration clung to her face. “Don’t everyone help me at once.” She glanced around. “What’s wrong?”
“The Queen’s asked me to get us down,” he said.
“What?”
“You will assist him,” Kalindinai stated. “We do not have enough time to do it your way.”
Wren’s eyes widened. “You’re not—” the Queen’s stare stopped her. “You are.” She sighed and she turned to him. “Want to try?”
He nodded.
“Laramis, Janai, bring the horses.” While they complied Wren stared at him. “This is crazy you know.”
He nodded.
Wren bit her lip, gaze sweeping the sky and the ground at the base of the cliff. “Teleportation, like we did with that scroll my Mother gave me, involves puncturing the ethereal fabric.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
Wren held up a hand. “Bear with me. Jumping from point to point is a matter of finding what’s called a node; a weak spot in the ether. You enter a nearby node and exit from another close to where you want to come out. Mages call that process teleporting. Entering and exiting a node is no problem, it’s finding and navigating between them that requires strong magic.”
“That sounds so damn complicated. Sarai just did it.”
“Hades, Bannor, I don’t know how you do those things. Like those swords, how in Ishtar’s name did you do that?”
He shrugged. “Just wrapped some threads around them.”
Wren blinked. “Just wrapped some—” she stopped. She put a hand to her stomach. She swayed.
Laramis stepped to Wren’s side and took her shoulder. “Are you all right, milady?”
The savant nodded. “Still queasy from that trip down the hill.”
It was whenever he tried to analyze his power and break it down to a process the he or someone else was hurt. He did complex acts of magic, simply—somehow. Forced, it never worked right. How did he make it happen without force?
Just do it.
I want all of us and our horses, at the foot of this hill. He put the desire strong in his mind. Repeating the words in his head, he looked deep into his Nola and visualized its tracery.
He felt a rush of strength. Heat flashed through his limbs and his heart raced. A second heart seemed to pound in his chest. Light flashed around his hands. In his vision, a network of bright violet lines crisscrossing the sky and ground flickered into view.
Here and there in the pattern, he saw tangles where several threads came together in a snarl.
Those clusters must be the nodes Wren’s was talking about.
In the time it took him to think it, he felt himself and the others being drawn toward the nearest one. In the same instant, he saw Meliandri’s eyes open. Glowing red embers shone from beneath her eyelids. He heard metal snap as his Nola jerked the group off into the void.
* * *
One of the main contributions the Ka’Amok have made to the universe is teleportation. A mortal named Mandrimin, a Ta’arthak Nola, a savant of Matter, invented the magical process of extracting simulcraic derivatives from chaotic space.
Reality's Plaything Page 44