For the Wildings

by Kyra Halland

  “Can’t fight properly without your hat, darlin’. Ready?”

  Lainie put her hat back on. “Ready. Be careful, baby.”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “You know I will. You be careful, too.”

  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “On three. One…” He inhaled even more deeply. A swirl of blue and amber power began to glow around his left hand.

  “Two…” He closed his eyes, his face drawn in with a look of intense concentration. Beneath her feet, Lainie felt a shifting of power in the earth. He was drawing wide and full and deep; he must be planning something really big. She only hoped he didn’t go too deep and fall under the influence of the Sh’kimech again. Bringing him back, when he went under in Discovery, hadn’t been easy.

  “Three,” he grated out.

  Silas launched himself out from the gap, shooting with his right hand and firing blasts of magic from his left. Lainie followed, also blasting and shooting. The men returned fire; the brilliant explosions of magic kept them from being able to aim, but a bullet still grazed Lainie’s shoulder and another knocked her hat askew. Her aim was better; using her mage ring to help control the magical attacks from her right hand, she could concentrate more on her left-handed shooting. At least three of the men she fired at fell to the ground and didn’t get back up. She didn’t dare look back to check on Jimmo; she could only hope he was safe and keeping up with them.

  Lainie and Silas soon ran out of bullets, but Lainie kept up her barrage of magical attacks. She still had plenty of power left, and she could draw more from the earth if she had to. Behind the cover of her attacks, Silas braced his feet wide apart. Power, blue, amber, and black, swelled to fill his arms. With a shout of effort, he heaved the gigantic mass of power at the street in front of where most of the remaining men were blocking the route east out of town. The attack plowed into the street with a ground-shaking impact. Dirt and rocks exploded into the air, and men flew and tumbled in all directions.

  The way was clear, at least for the moment. Lainie started running east up the street, the shortest way out of town and to the horses. “Come on!” she called, looking back to see if Silas and Jimmo were following her.

  The boy was right behind her, but Silas hadn’t moved. He stood where he had been, fists clenched at his sides. His whole body was glowing with an unworldly swirl of black laced with blue and gold. “Come on, Silas, we gotta get out of here!” Lainie shouted.

  He turned his head to look at her. Something dark shadowed his eyes, something that wasn’t him. He had gone way too deep. She ran back to him and grabbed his right hand. “Move it! Come on, please!”

  A few of the men started to stir, and several more crept out from where they had hid behind and inside the buildings along the street. Silas raised his left hand towards them. A cloud of utter blackness began to form around it.

  “No!” Lainie tugged harder at him. “Not them. We beat them. You don’t need to destroy them.”

  “Don’t get in my way.” His voice was cold, with an odd depth and darkness to it.

  Leave him alone! she cried out in her mind, sending the words into Silas, to the Sh’kimech who had taken possession of him. Their eager demands for destruction drowned out her plea.

  “Oh, for all the gods’ sakes, Vendine, come on!” She reached up to pull him down to her, to kiss him and bring him back to himself the best way she knew how, but he pushed her away.

  A chill of fear seized her. He had never pushed her away before. She grabbed his arm and pulled at it. “Come on, Silas, you gotta move.” Panic and desperation brought tears to her eyes and choked her voice.

  “Can’t you fools do anything right?” a man shouted. The mage who had been with Astentias came running up the street towards the scene of the fight. “Fourteen of you against two of them; what’s wrong with you?”

  “They’re wizards!” a man retorted. “You fight ’em. Or help us, anyhow, instead of hiding up in your room like a coward.”

  A purple glow formed around the mage’s hand. “I’m no coward.” He turned to face Lainie and Silas.

  “Him, baby. You can destroy him,” she said. Maybe that would satisfy the Sh’kimech and they would let Silas go.

  He glanced at her, his eyes still shadowed by the dark beings who had taken possession of him. The mage launched his attack; with an almost careless gesture, Silas threw the mass of dark power that had formed in his hand. The black power tore the ball of purple light to shreds, then continued on to swallow up the mage in darkness. He screamed; the scream was cut short, and the darkness cleared to reveal his body lying crumpled on the ground.

  Lainie pulled on Silas again. “Come on.” There, she said to the Sh’kimech, bearing down against them with all her will. You got to destroy someone. Now let him go.

  Satisfied for the moment, the Sh’kimech began to retreat.

  Lainie looked at Silas again. He was standing rigid and motionless, looking down, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat. Then his body relaxed and he shook himself. The shadowy darkness was gone from his eyes. He looked at the body on the ground, then at his hand. “I killed him?”

  “You did,” Lainie said. “Come on; Astentias is way ahead of us. Let’s get out of here before the rest of them recover.”

  Lainie, Silas, and Jimmo started running again, straight up the street. Most of the remaining men shrank back fearfully as they passed, but one man shouted, “Lord Astentias said not to let them go!”

  “I ain’t fighting no more wizards!” someone else retorted. Three shots rang out, but they went wide, and no more gunfire followed.

  At last, Lainie, Silas, and the boy reached the open land beyond the edge of town. The horses, kept close by the keeper charms, were waiting about fifty measures ahead, grazing on grass through the light layer of snow on the ground. As they ran towards the horses, Lainie kept glancing over at Silas, trying to reassure herself that he was free of the Sh’kimech. She had never been so far gone that she forgot who he was or didn’t know what she was doing. If he got like that again, she didn’t know if she would be able to pull him out of it. And if the Sh’kimech gained possession of him and his power, she might have no choice but to –

  She pushed the thought away. It didn’t bear thinking of.

  They reached the horses; Silas and Lainie’s belongings were as they had left them. Silas climbed into Abenar’s saddle in one smooth, quick motion and reached a hand down for Jimmo. “With me.” He hauled the boy up behind him. Lainie also mounted up on Mala. “Where’re we going?” Silas asked Jimmo.

  The boy pointed south of town. “About two leagues.”

  They covered the distance at a gallop. Lainie’s mind churned with worry the whole way. She still couldn’t believe they had been bested by Lord Astentias and his sidekick. Astentias was a strong and skilled mage, but still, those two shouldn’t have beat them so easily. The fourteen Plain men shouldn’t have given them so much trouble, either. And Silas had nearly been lost to the Sh’kimech.

  They were both still tired from their long run from Sandostra, she decided; still off-balance, still learning again how to work together. And now Astentias was ahead of them, and Elspetya Lorentius and her people would be ready and waiting for them.

  A ranch house came into view, the curtained windows glowing faintly in the night. “You’re sure you’re better off taking your chances with her Pa than with the folks in town?” Silas asked the boy.

  Jimmo grinned. “I can handle him. He’ll give Susa anything she wants.”

  “A word of advice, son,” Silas said. “Man to man. Ask to marry her before her Pa has to tell you to. Take it from me, it’s better that way.” He looked over at Lainie and grinned at her. Her cheeks burned, but she laughed, relieved to see him back to himself.

  “Yes, sir,” Jimmo said, his own blush showing in the moonlight. They reined in, and the boy jumped down from Abenar and ran to the house. Silas and Lainie waited just in case the girl’s father met him with a shotgun afte
r all. He was admitted to the house; then, when he didn’t come back out running for his life after several minutes, Silas nodded and wheeled Abenar back around towards the road. “Let’s go.”

  They headed south, towards the bluffs over the Gap River and the nearest ferry crossing, about thirty leagues south of Honeybee. It would be all right, Lainie tried to assure herself as they rode. Silas would master his changed power and the Sh’kimech, and she would pull herself back together, and no one else would be able to get the best of them. The fight of their lives lay ahead, and they had no choice but to win.

  Chapter 21

  FROM THE SETTLEMENT called Discovery, Jasik rode north and east through the mountains instead of keeping to the lowlands. This way was more rugged and difficult, but it was a much shorter route to the valley at the foot of the Blueclouds, and it was safer for him to avoid the areas where settlers lived. His horse Iji was more than equal to the demand, and they made good time.

  As he traveled through the mountains, he told his story to the clans he passed, warning them to keep their children close and safe and to not let themselves be provoked into attacking the settlers. He also told them that any Grana wizards found in A’ayimat territory, except for the one called Lainie Vendine, the wizard woman whose power was born of this land, and her husband should be captured and questioned and not let go.

  Every morning, noon, and night on his journey, he prayed to his gods and to the Grana gods he’d heard the Vendines mention, and any other gods who might care to listen, for the safety of his own wife and children. There were none left to seek vengeance against his people in the town his clan had destroyed, but Vendine had said that settlers in other towns were talking about striking back at the A’ayimat.

  Ten days of hard riding brought him to the valley that the settlers called Bentwood. He gave the settlement a wide berth, keeping to the foothills to the west then circling around north of the town to where Vendine had told him the BeeSeeCrown ranch lay. Jasik was curious to see the rancher’s half-A’ayimat, half-Grana daughter. He wasn’t one of those who said it was impossible for Grana folk and the A’ayimat to breed, but he wanted to see for himself if it really was possible. He hoped the poor child didn’t look too strange. And he hoped Vendine was right, that this Grana man who had lain with an A’ayimat woman and who was raising his half-A’ayimat child would listen to him instead of shooting him on sight.

  This early in the day, the Bluecloud Mountains were still casting their morning shadows across the snow-covered valley. Looking east, Jasik spotted a group of structures built in the settlers’ fashion standing in the midst of a cluster of pine trees. That must be the ranch.

  He headed down into the valley and rode towards the structures. Soon, he passed some markers which he guessed showed the boundary of the ranch, and indeed, carved into one of the wooden posts were the symbols Vendine had shown him that indicated the BeeSeeCrown.

  As he rode across the open, snowy grassland, two Grana men approached him on horseback. Jasik reined Iji to a halt and dismounted; the A’ayimat put it about that they considered it rude to converse from horseback, though the truth was that being in contact with the ground was what allowed them to pick up the Granas’ language through the flow of magic beneath the earth. He stood beside Iji, holding his arms out wide and empty-handed, in a gesture that in any language meant his intentions were peaceful, and extended his magic down into the earth.

  The men came to a stop a distance of five or six man-lengths from Jasik, both of them pointing short firearms at him. One of them shouted at him, then the other one spoke to his companion. They both dismounted, then aimed their weapons at him again. “What’s your business here?” the first one demanded.

  Jasik kept his arms spread wide. “My name is Jasik. I have a message for Brin Coltor from Silas Vendine.”

  The men carried out a brief, quiet, but intense conversation with each other, then nodded. “Come with us,” the first man said. “If you make any trouble, we’ll shoot.”

  “I understand,” Jasik said.

  All three of them mounted up, then the Grana men flanked Jasik and accompanied him to the group of structures among the trees. An older man carrying a long firearm came running out from the largest one, a white-painted structure that Jasik supposed was Coltor’s dwelling. One of the men with Jasik shouted something to the man; Jasik made out his own name and the words Coltor, message, and Vendine. The older man nodded and went back into the dwelling.

  The men with Jasik dismounted, and, at a sign from them, Jasik did so as well. A boy came over from another structure, that wasn’t as large and fine-looking as the dwelling, and took their horses. He glanced at Jasik. “Should I take the blueskin’s horse, too?” he asked the men.

  “I would be grateful,” Jasik said to the horseboy. “We’ve traveled hard for ten days.”

  The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “You understand me!”

  Jasik smiled at his surprise. Most settlers knew little about the A’ayimat; the first man who had spoken to him had had to be told to dismount from his horse. But some secrets were meant to be kept, including how the A’ayimat were able to understand any language spoken to them. “I’ve learned some of your language, yes.”

  “Oh.” Then the boy’s face reddened, showing embarrassment. The color change looked alarming on the fair skin, but Jasik had learned in his dealings with the Vendines and the folk in Discovery that it was perfectly normal when embarrassed or angry. “I didn’t mean no offense, not askin’ you yourself,” the boy said. “I didn’t think you would understand me.”

  “No offense taken. Thank you for caring for my horse.”

  The boy grinned. “Wait till I tell Betta I talked to a real blueskin!” He took the horses’ reins and led them towards the plainer structure he had come from. Jasik smiled again as he watched them go; “Betta,” as far as he could tell, seemed to refer to a pretty girl about the boy’s age. Some things were the same no matter what people one was born to or the color of one’s skin.

  A large man, darker than most settlers but not as dark as Vendine, with thick black whiskers growing above his lip and the shadow of more whiskers on his cheeks and chin, came out of the dwelling. He stepped down from the wide wooden platform in front of the dwelling onto the ground, then spoke. “You have a message from Vendine?”

  “You are Mister Brin Coltor?” Jasik asked.

  “That’s me. It’s cold out here; shall we go inside?”

  Jasik nodded, and Coltor led him into the dwelling. He looked around curiously; he had never been in a settler’s home before. It was far larger than the largest tent, built of wood and blocks of dried, baked mud, and divided into different areas, each apparently with its own purpose. Coltor led him into an area where a strong fire was burning in a hearth set into the wall, and invited him to sit on one of the cloth-covered sitting pads raised up on wooden legs. He perched on the edge of his seat, aware of his travel-filthy clothes on the beautifully-woven white cloth covering.

  Coltor took another seat, facing him. “I have to say, given the circumstances, I didn’t expect Vendine to send an A’ayimat. What’s the message?”

  Reaching through the floor of the dwelling into the ground made drawing the words more difficult, like Jasik’s head was stuffed full of wool. Straining for words, filling them in as best he could with as much of the Grana language as he had learned, he told the sorrowful tale of the tragedy that had befallen his clan and their avenging attack on the town called Stone Creek, and how he had realized they had been manipulated into attacking the town. He told of meeting Vendine in the ruined town, and related what the Vendines had learned at Thornwood.

  As Jasik spoke of the dreadful crimes that had been committed against A’ayimat children, Coltor’s thick, heavy brows drew together and his lips pressed flat in an angry line. He hissed a few words under his breath, dire curses in a language other than the Grana tongue.

  An older woman – a servant, by her manner; she didn’t behave
with the command and confidence of a matron of the house, and, as far as Jasik knew, the settlers didn’t keep slaves – brought in a platter of cold sliced meats, a strange, fluffy kind of bread, and an indescribable but not entirely unpleasant substance which he learned was called cheese. There was also a pot of the hot medicinal tea that the settlers called chickroot and drank as a nourishing beverage. Hungry after riding since before dawn to get here, Jasik devoured the food and drink as he continued with his story. He concluded with the situation in Discovery and what the Vendines had learned about the Hidden Council’s plans. “We know Bentwood Gulch is one of the towns they planned to take over,” he said.

  “Damn,” Coltor said. “They’re already here. Three men came into town the day before yesterday, offering protection against your people. They were only interested in speaking to the mayor and the sheriff. I was run off and barred from the meetings. As far as I know, they’re still negotiating, but there’s rumors I don’t like, of rules like the ones you’re telling me about in Discovery, and other such things.”

  A woman with golden hair and fair skin, whose belly was gently rounded with child, had come into the room while Jasik was speaking. “This is Brin’s town,” she said, her cheeks reddening like the boy’s but with anger. “He made Bentwood Gulch what it is. If anyone’s respected in this town, if anyone has the right to speak for it and make decisions for it, it’s him. But these strangers came into town with their ridiculous promises – how can they claim to know more about the A’ayimat than anyone else, especially Brin? And those idiots Warrit and Foreston showed him out the door and won’t let him have part in any of it.”

  “But now you know the truth about these men,” Jasik said. “If you go to the mayor and the sheriff and tell them, will they listen to you?”

  Coltor was silent for a long moment, his brows drawn in deep thought. Then he stood, a hard look on his face that made Jasik very glad that Coltor wasn’t his enemy. “Damn right they’ll listen to me,” Coltor said. “And I’ll make them listen to you, too, Jasik. If you’ll come with me, that is.”