Drifter Mage

by PMF Johnson

  The plant seemed insignificant, just one among many. But he studied it.

  "Learn what is here. You are not always rely on anyone else. Those are red-winged blackbirds. When they fly in the morning in groups, you are follow them back to water."

  They traveled on. The Rus was leading him in a wide circle. He realized he could no longer see the ibi. Where had they gone? He kept silent and watched, slowly coming to understand she had led him around so they were approaching the ibi from downwind. A swell of land that he could barely discern kept them hidden.

  She paused, and Galle drew his pony to a halt beside her.

  "You are leave little trail, like the blackbird. Enemies follow you otherwise. City dwellers carve a path even a fool follows. They are kill without need, chase foolish dreams. They are not listen."

  She was silent for a time. "You travel with that man, Arch. Learn from him. Children best learn from the wise."

  "My Pa knows a lot, too."

  She glanced over at him. "His knowledge is the city. Trails are different here. Fight today's enemies today."

  "My Pa had to fight. Some evil men. He hurt them and chased them off." Galle trembled, remembering that day, the attack from the alley, how fast and deadly Pa had been.

  "Then he is brave, but brings a wife and child into the Magic. He is change or die."

  She pointed at the sky. "When we travel toward game, the Cub watches. There is His interest. The Ibi turns away. If the Ibi is not turn away, do not hunt Her People. You are catch nothing and anger a Goddess. Foolishness."

  "She has turned away now, though. I don't see her."

  The Rus nodded. "Sa. Over that hill are ibi. Take this."

  She unfolded a tall cane, like the handle for a tree pruner. But rather than a blade at the end, from the top of it hung three stone balls on small ropes, striking each other with a gentle clacking.

  "Raise this in the air. Sa. A little higher. Now, and now, and now, move it and make the stones hit. Gentle. Else do not move. You are not make a sound."

  She nocked an arrow to her bow, hunkered down and eased up to the top of the hill, not quite peering over. At her gesture, she choreographed his striking of the stones. Long pauses, a clack or two, then more pausing, until he had the hang of it. He felt silly, standing in one spot, the stones overhead. But he was determined to prove himself, even if she intended just to make a fool of him.

  She loosed an arrow, and with one movement nocked another arrow and fired again. She charged over the hill.

  Galle followed, to find two ibi down, killed cleanly. The rest of the small herd of antelope had fled two hundred paces away already.

  "Ibi see clear," she said, "and they catch your scent. Few stalk them in success. But they are curious -- show them something they never see, they are gather to understand it."

  "So the clacking stones drew them in?"

  "Sa." She finished gutting the first antelope.

  He wanted to ask when she would teach him to overcome the hunger -- the emptiness that threatened to engulf him. But he dared not offend her, for fear she would abandon him. So he acted at her guidance, cleaning the second antelope, then pulling off their hides. They used the hides as sledges to drag the meat back to camp. It took the rest of the day.

  Exhausted, he wrapped himself in his blanket that night and slept without torment for the first time since the whirligigs descended on him.

  Day after day he woke to find an endless series of tasks before him. They kept him so busy he had no time to concern himself with the hunger. It was still there, but stopped mattering. After a few days they found fewer things for him to do, but driven by the hunger he hunted tasks, volunteering to pitch in wherever anyone needed help.

  #

  Mara saw the ragged band of natives first, approaching slowly across the prairie. She ran out to meet them as her heart leapt to see her son sitting upright on his horse.

  He was thinner, worn-looking, had obviously been through a time, but a confidence showed in his eye she had never known. He still had a slight silver sheen to his skin, and there was something alien about him, set apart. He had been someplace she would never go.

  But he greeted her with joy, slipping off his horse and catching her in his arms when she ran to him.

  "Oh thank you, thank you," she said to the old warrior woman over Galle's shoulder. Dunortha nodded, and one or two eyes among the Ruskiya gleamed to see the boy reunited with his mother. They had a hand in his raising, now.

  "He lives in silver," the old woman told her, then turned away with her people, departing as quickly as the breeze.

  But when Mara returned with her son to their outfit Galle went straight to the back of the wagon, drew out the extra bow and quiver, and from then on carried them everywhere.

  Chapter Eight

  The Preacher stood to one side as the Owl examined the ground. "What're the tracks telling you?"

  The half-elven squatted on his heels by the trail, his wings spread for balance. "Someone has joined them. A lone man."

  "Nobody else was with them," Ulf protested. He pointed with his staff down the back trail. "I looked for tracks."

  "He comes and goes like a wolf. He is with them then he is not, circling away then back."

  "Who is he?" Benn asked.

  "One of the natives, prob'ly." The Preacher sneered. "Hangin' around that woman."

  Rock looked over and the Preacher was abruptly quiet.

  "It ain't good." Kin Re rolled his quid around in his mouth, spat. "Always figgered someone else had to 'uv kilt my brother Tarn. None of that crew's good enough to."

  "Nah," said Ulf. "It's one of the natives. Mebbe they're planning an ambush. Get at their raw magic. Or their gold."

  "Natives don't go for gold or coins or things like that," Shef pointed out. "Don't have a use for it."

  "Tttt. No," said Dunshil, her mandibles clattering with interest, "but they can use a woman. They might pay for her."

  "Not like you, Rock," said Benn Ku. "I recall when--"

  "Benn," said Rock.

  Benn's voice trailed off. After a moment, he said. "I didn't mean nothin'."

  Rock didn't respond, he just got up on his horse and rode off after the wagon train.

  Behind him, Benn Ku looked frankly scared.

  Dunshil watched them all with faint distaste. It was nothing to her what happened to the human woman, but these men of other races were fools, run by their hormones, none worse than Rock. He truly believed killing the woman's husband would prove to her that he was superior, and more worthy of her love. Who would tell him any different?

  True, she knew herself as different, even for a goblen. Growing up, she never dreamed with other girls about whose pod she might join, who would be good nesting mates, boy and girl, to make up the working teams that formed the bedrock of goblen society. She figured to gain enough power as a conjuror so others would clamor to join HER pod, but she had always been a loner, far more unusual among the goblen than any other mortal race, to the point where others shunned her.

  Stung by that, she set off from her homeland determined to prove herself.

  That was years ago. She had not calculated how hard it was to live on her own among alien races, how difficult magic would prove to be and how rare imps were. In all this time, she only managed to take one relatively weak imp, and that almost by luck. No, she needed to take that second imp from the pilgrims. And if she could get the imp's name somehow, that would be even a greater triumph, giving her infinitely more mastery over the creature.

  Only great conjurors ever mastered more than one imp. She could return home in triumph. All her efforts would be directed toward that end now that she knew where an imp could be found.

  She watched as the others in this strange semi-pod of mixed races followed as Rock rode off, the Preacher hurrying to get in front, as usual.

  The Preacher liked to consider himself their leader, their First in pod terms, so he rode in front whenever he could. She did not c
are. Let them fight the pilgrims, undergoing all the risks -- as they did, she would pluck off the imp and be on her way. She followed after them.

  "I think this is a good bet," said Ulf as they rode along. "Lot of weight in that wagon. Gonna be carrying a load of magic."

  Shef shook his head, exasperated by his brother. "Anyone who's got that much magic, they're gonna go into the city to sell it, or use it."

  "What else would all that weight be from?"

  "Furniture," Shef tried to explain. "Fixin's. They got a woman along, women value things like that."

  Ulf scoffed at Shef in return. "No one would make a load so heavy for fool stuff like that."

  Shef shrugged, stung by his brother's comment, and answered in a tight voice. "You don't know much about women."

  "I know enough." Ulf frowned. "Mules are worth a lot. Their wagon is well-built. They got money. An' that's an awful good-looking horse he's ridin'."

  Benn Ku heard them. "Aw, I can smell the magic in that wagon. It's there, alright."

  Rock never made a comment. He just rode along, his thoughts kept to himself.

  From behind, Shef watched him. Whose magic was stronger? Was Shef stronger? Rock was awful strong. What if Rock were stronger and they went at it? Rock would kill him.

  He wondered if his brother Ulf would care.

  Ulf was impressed by Rock's magic, always hinting he'd like to learn how planar magic worked. As though Rock would tell him, or the Owl either.

  #

  The mules labored on, as Deeb, Mara and Galle walked alongside. Deeb considered hitching the horse to a yoke, but could figure no way to rig the yoke that would not just interfere with the mules. The horse had never been trained to pull. They were moving uphill, barely enough for Deeb to notice, except for how the mules were working. The recent rain had made it more difficult as well.

  At least the whirligigs had departed. Deeb looked at his son. Did Galle have something to do with that? Since Galle had returned, he seemed to have some strange connection to the whirligigs. They followed him almost like pets would, and seemed to move at his gestures. Their son was so much quieter now, and knew things about the prairie somehow that he had no business knowing. As though he had some strange connection to the whirligigs.

  When asked, he said only that the Ruskiya treated him well enough. Mara was in tears of joy that her son was back, but he seemed distant, even she admitted it.

  "Arch has disappeared somewhere again," Deeb said to her.

  "Where does he go?"

  "He wanders like the wind. He's got no stick-to-it." But he felt embarrassed as he said that -- he didn't like himself sounding petty. Jealous, even.

  "You don't believe that," Mara said to him.

  "Those men are following us," Galle said, suddenly.

  "How do you know?" Deeb asked.

  Galle made as if to answer, but then stayed silent.

  "Did the Ruskiya tell you?"

  He shrugged unhappily. "The orcen woman thought they would."

  "I don't see why they'd follow us this far," Deeb said.

  "I don't know why," Galle said.

  "One of them died," Mara said. "Revenge, maybe?"

  "You know," Deeb said, "I never saw him die, actually."

  "Deeb, he was planning to murder you."

  Deeb shrugged. "I've been thinking. Maybe he was after Arch. It makes more sense. They had a quarrel of some sort."

  "They had Lok, Pa. They trapped him to set up an ambush on you."

  Deeb was having none of it. "That's awfully dramatic. I think I overreacted."

  Deeb was uncomfortable with fighting. He had avoided it all his life, and the idea that he might have to start out here, that violence might be a regular part of his life now, disturbed him a great deal. He knew there was violence, his whole family had lived in violence. He did not intend to become like them. Nor did he intend to lose his wife, nor become such a man as would disturb her.

  "And the man who crept into our camp and attacked me?" Mara asked. "You don't think he intended to hurt anyone, either?"

  Surprised at this unexpected reaction from her, his answer was almost childish. "You hit him first."

  "Your brothers protected you, you know. Kept you safe from the dangerous folks in the city so you were never threatened. But that's over now, Deeb. We're on our own. No law, no place to hide. We have to protect ourselves."

  He opened his mouth to object, closed it when he realized he did not know what to say. He had his shoulders hunched up against this world changing him and here it was changing his wife even faster. That he had not expected.

  He did not know what he thought about that, but to his wild, rebel heart it made sense -- she was a woman protecting her child, a mother-bear watching over her cub. It bothered him how much he admired that about her. He did not want to become a thug.

  "The Ruskiya are always ready," Galle said quietly. "I will be too."

  "We must rest." Deeb changed the subject. "The mules are tired."

  At noon they found a creek and some brush along it, and they watered their stock and grabbed sticks for firewood. The mules cropped, grateful for the break.

  There was no wind, no clouds, just an immense dome of blue above, the grass spreading out in every direction. Mara climbed a low hill that had a few granite outcroppings. She sat on one, taking in the country all around. Deeb climbed up to her.

  "It's so beautiful here," she said. Then laughed. "I can't believe I'm saying that."

  "There's something amazing in seeing the whole world spread out around you," he agreed. "A person could truly enjoy this country."

  "We're just passing through, though. Where we're going isn't like this, is it?"

  "No. We seek a valley in the mountains. But all those valleys open out to this region, so we'll be close."

  He paused. "Do you think the thugs are still coming after us?"

  She felt for him, but she was an honest woman and saw no good in denying the truth. "I would expect so, Deeb. They are evil. I think...I think they saw that I was a woman."

  Deeb nodded.

  Galle came around the side of the wagon. He was inspecting the wheels.

  "Do you think he'll be all right?" she asked.

  "He's changed, Mara. In some ways, maybe for the better. He seems more serious. Level-headed. He's not a boy any longer."

  "He's still a boy's age."

  "Yes, but he's in a man's world now. I don't know how he'll turn out."

  Galle turned to them and called. "Someone's out there."

  He pointed, and they saw far off in the distance the figure of a lone rider approaching. Galle climbed the hill to them.

  "It's Arch," he said.

  "How do you know?" his mother asked. "He's a long way off."

  Galle shrugged, as though he could not, or would not, explain how he knew. His mother studied his face, but Galle turned away and went back to the wagon.

  "I worry about him," Mara said to her husband.

  "I do too, dear. But we'll do what we can for him."

  Deeb and Galle hitched up the team and they set out. Both Deeb and Galle carried their bows. Lok coasted in the air above them -- even the imp had grown more measured and deliberate in his behavior. The journey was wearing on them all. After a time, Arch caught up to them by following their track through the grass.

  It was dark by the time they reached a small stream and crossed it. They set the stock out to graze. Galle gathered sticks from the wooded area along the water, but Arch had him move his pile so the fire would be down in a small dip in the landscape. They kept the cook fire small.

  Deeb noticed Arch had vanished again. Not his concern.

  "We'll eat fast tonight," he said. Mara set to cooking a few quail eggs they had found, some biscuits and tea.

  They put out the fire after they ate, brought the stock to water again, then tied them to the wagon with leads long enough that they could graze. He wanted them right in camp tonight.

  "Galle, y
ou stand guard until the Swan is overhead," he said, pointing to a constellation already coming visible in the dusk. "Then wake your mother. I'll take last watch."

  Mara climbed up into the wagon to sleep, her wand beside her. Uneasiness kept her awake longer than she wished.

  Chapter Nine

  The wind stirred the grass and clouds were covering the stars overhead. Mara shifted, trying to find a comfortable position in her makeshift watch post.

  Arch's voice came out of the darkness, surprising her. "They've arrived. You best get your husband up."

  How had he come in so close without her being aware? It concerned her as well that Lok had not warned them. Could Arch elude the notice of the imp, or did Lok consider him part of their team now?

  She was on watch beside the wagon in the dark -- the moon had not risen and the clouds might be too thick for it to shine through in any case. "You're hard to see."

  "The boy is already awake," Arch said.

  The wind started to gust -- she worried a storm might be coming. It was not light enough to see the shapes of the clouds.

  A faint light flashed in the distance. So a storm was indeed out there in the night.

  Arch had experienced thunderstorms out in the Magic. They could be unlike anything on earth. Even in the dark, energies shifted and collided, causing deep rumbles and flashes of multi-colored light. Things changed inside such storms. The time had come to hunker down, but they did not have that luxury. Judging from the intensity and variety of colors of the flashes, this was going to be a bad one.

  Arch backed into the trees, then made his way down to the creek bottom. An orange glow flickered steadily at a distance upstream, revealing the camp of their pursuers a few hundred paces off. He eased forward until he could see them around their fire. The Preacher, Benn Ku, Ulf Menesketh were all there.

  Arch saw the form of Rock among the others. He sized up Rock, knowing him as cruel, sneering and heartless. Rock Gul used his elven magic, often called will magic, to freeze his enemies in place. Then he would saunter over, knowing they could sense him, fear him, but could do nothing. They were utterly helpless as he, with relish, slit their throats. Rock would be the most evil of them.