The Mage Heir

by Kathryn Sommerlot

  He approached Yudai slowly and stopped a few paces away.

  “Nys says my hand might get better,” he said. “The feeling should come back.”

  Tatsu had guessed Yudai was feeling guilty, but as the other man whirled on him, he realized what he was actually seeing wasn’t regret but anger. Yudai was almost sparking with rage, eyebrows furrowed and lip curled back so that he looked more like a feral cliffcat than a man.

  “How can you do that?” Yudai growled. “How can you talk about this so calmly?”

  “It’s not the end of the world…”

  “Look at you!” Yudai cried with a wide gesture of his arm towards Tatsu’s sling, and the implication of it stung so bad Tatsu nearly stumbled backwards. “Look at what’s happened! Look at the consequences of what was done to me! And it’s going to keep happening as long as I’m alive!”

  A bubble of emotion lodged in Tatsu’s throat. “It’s not necessarily forever. It might get better—”

  “And you’re acting like this?” Yudai’s voice was loud, too loud, his shouts carrying easily on the still air. “How are you not angry?!”

  “Of course I’m angry!” Tatsu exclaimed. It physically hurt when the dam burst free; his veins were on fire, and so were the tips of his ears, and it felt like every muscle in his body was throbbing in time with his heart. “Gods, Yudai, I’m furious! Do you think I don’t realize what this means? That I’ll never shoot a bow again? That I’ll have to relearn every skill I’ve ever been taught? I know what this means, and it could be a death sentence! Of course I’m angry. But I’m not angry at you.”

  There was a moment of perfect stillness before Yudai’s expression collapsed.

  “You should be,” he moaned, and his head sank down to his hands.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it is.” The words were a bit muffled by the palms of his hands. “All of this is because of me. You did all this just to try and save my life by basically giving up yours. I should’ve been able to do something.”

  He turned his back on Tatsu to face the sand and wiped at his face with his sleeve. Tatsu could almost see all that loathing turn inwards—frustrated and powerless, with nowhere to go. It bottled up in Yudai’s shoulders, slumped forward and down. Tatsu closed his eyes for a second, as if the blackness could swallow up all the time since they’d crossed into Joesar’s borders. He took several deep breaths to settle himself and then cracked his eyes open again.

  “I don’t want to be mad at you,” he said slowly. “There’s a lot to be angry at, but I don’t… I don’t really want one of those things to be you.”

  “Stop being such a hero.” Yudai dragged his hands down across his face.

  “I’m sure that you are going to kill me for this later,” Tatsu said, “but I think you really need to work on managing your anger.”

  Yudai laughed, though it came out harsh and stilted. “I would kill you if you were anyone else.”

  It felt good when his face loosened in happiness. If nothing else, it turned his attention away from the throbbing knot of grief in his chest. Yudai hadn’t been wrong about the implications of the injury, but the idea of never being able to hunt on his own again was overpowering. Tatsu couldn’t afford to fall apart over the uncertainty of his own future. Ignoring the reality would work, at least for a little while, until they figured out what they needed to do—and what their new hosts were planning on doing with them.

  Yudai twisted halfway around, and then his eyes flickered to something over Tatsu’s shoulder. “That’s Jotin, the man who found us.”

  When Tatsu craned his head to look, a young man with dark brown skin was standing behind them. His hair, at least the part that wasn’t shorn down to his scalp, was pulled back in a cord.

  “Thank you,” Tatsu said. “How did you…?”

  A hawk flew low over the tents and landed on Jotin’s hand, which was covered in a thick leather glove without a twin. The bird’s intense gaze landed on both Tatsu and Yudai before the creature let out a short screech, and Tatsu stared at the raptor as his foggy thoughts struggled to catch up.

  “It wasn’t different hawks I was seeing, was it?” he asked, impressed despite himself. “Your bird was following us the whole time.”

  Jotin’s grinned. “Only fools wander into the desert without supplies. It is our duty to keep an eye on outsiders.”

  He motioned behind him towards the center of the camp where the bulk of the flickering torches were set up. The sky had darkened considerably, and the flames illuminated the camp in several lopsided circles. The elongated shadows of the people standing about stretched across the ground.

  “You seem well enough to answer questions,” Jotin said, “so this is a good time for an explanation of why you are here in our sands. The chief is ready for you.”

  Although they had already met the acting chief Nys, standing in front of her and the others was still foreboding. The walkers assembled in a semicircle in front of the lanterns with their layers of light-colored linens wrapped around their shoulders, and Tatsu felt distinctly out of place. Even when he’d stood in front of the Queen of Chayd, he’d at least known what his role was. In Joesar, their position was as unstable as the sand beneath his boots.

  Aside from Nys and Jotin, the other Cabaj-walkers were a blending of similarly dark skin and black hair, mostly pulled up and back away from their necks. They made an impassive wall, trained in survival and well-versed in the desert layout, and they reminded Tatsu strongly of the curved line of mages that had once stared down at him from the receiving room in Dradela’s palace. Jotin, standing on the far right, was the only one with an animal, and his hawk was perched on a leather strap that covered only one shoulder.

  Tatsu wanted to shrink back away from them, but Yudai squared his shoulders and took a step forward.

  “We thank you for your aid,” he said, “and we wish no harm to you or your lands. Although our arrival is abrupt and unexpected, we hope that you’ll see fit to grant us passage through the sands to your capital city.”

  “So formal,” Nys said. She moved forward, and the dancing light of the torches cast harsh shadows on the folds of her clothing. “You have not given an answer for why you are here to begin with. What outsiders would wander into our desert with no care for the trade routes?”

  Tatsu saw Yudai’s jaw clench, the muscles twinging slightly. “We seek information in Moswar from the alchemists.”

  “Ah,” Nys said, as if she’d known the answer all along. “But why the avoidance of safe passage roads? They have been created to aid travelers with Moswar as their destination.”

  Yudai’s gaze flickered to meet Tatsu’s. Yudai took a deep breath but didn’t say anything, and for a long moment, there was only stillness hanging sharp and heavy between them.

  “We…” Yudai began and seemed unable to continue.

  “The routes aren’t safe for us,” Tatsu cut in. “We aren’t exactly on good terms with our respective countries. Encountering certain parties could be… detrimental.”

  Nys’ face seemed to crinkle, but it could have been a trick of the light. “If you are wanted men, why do you think we would be willing to grant you passage through our lands?”

  Another pause, and Tatsu’s heart was pounding out an erratic rhythm that echoed in his ears. Yudai’s eyes met Tatsu’s again, and his expression hardened into resignation. When Yudai faced the semicircle of Cabaj-walkers once more, he drew himself up to his full height, raising his chin and balling his hands into tight fists at his sides.

  “Because I am the heir to the throne of Runon,” he said, “and I am invoking the aid in distress agreement for foreign rulers.”

  “You are not a ruler yet,” Nys pointed out.

  “I will be king,” Yudai said.

  Tatsu could have sworn that he saw Nys’ mouth ghost up into a smile. “We have no kings here, prince. Why must you go to Moswar?”

  The visible tremble down Yudai’s arms was testamen
t to how poorly the conversation was going. His mouth thinned as he said, “Joesarian poisons were used to control my magic, and they have damaged my abilities. I need to know what they were and how to reverse it.”

  The others were quiet as Nys shifted her gaze away from Yudai and squared it on Tatsu. It held a significant weight, and Tatsu winced, cradling his useless arm close to his chest.

  “And you?” she asked.

  “I’m just a guide,” Tatsu said.

  “Will you vouch for him?”

  “Yes,” Tatsu said without hesitation. He let his eyes dart to Yudai and then back to Nys. “Yes, I will.”

  Nys turned her attention to the walkers behind her. The conversation, if it could even be called that without sound, stretched over several tense moments—whatever was going on between them was invisible until one of the men on the furthest edge shook his head. Nys laced her fingers together and looked to Yudai once more.

  “Rest now,” she said, and it was more order than request. “Tomorrow morning, we will give you our decision.”

  “Tomorrow?” Yudai sputtered. “Why can’t you just tell us now?”

  “Joesar is not governed by one person alone,” Nys said, “and neither are we. We will convene and discuss your situation. When the sun returns to the sky, we will have a consensus.”

  Yudai seemed ready to say more, and whatever it was going to be, Tatsu knew it would only make matters worse. He reached forward and grabbed Yudai with his good hand, hauling him backwards with all of the strength left in his recovering muscles. It was at least enough to stall Yudai from immediately damaging their chances, though they both stumbled a bit.

  “Thank you,” Tatsu said to Nys and the Cabaj-walkers as a whole. Part of him wanted to apologize, but since he couldn’t pin down an exact mistake to atone for, he didn’t. Everything had already been said, and in truth, he was too exhausted to do much else. He couldn’t feel his left arm, but his shoulder above it was aching. It might have been a respite not to feel the pain in his ruined hand, but it betrayed the depth of the poison’s damage.

  Tatsu wished he knew Nys well enough to know if her expression really was bordering on amused. He wasn’t sure where they stood with the Joesarians, so assuming anything could lead to disaster.

  “Thank you,” he said again and tugged Yudai back a little more. “We’ll take our leave now.”

  Four

  Rest came easily for his body but not his mind. By the time the dawn broke and the desert heat began to rise, Tatsu had slept on and off fitfully enough that his body no longer felt quite so weak. He checked his left arm to find the streaks of black beneath his skin had disappeared, which was positive, though he still could not feel anything when he poked at it with his other hand. The disappointment threatened to choke him, so he pushed himself up off the skins to take his mind off of it.

  He’d expected the Cabaj camp to quiet during the harsh daylight, and he’d been wrong. Outside the tent, there was still activity, though less hurried and more controlled—a careful dance of expending only the necessary energy to perform essential tasks. Some of the men and women he knew must have been at the meeting with Nys the night before, but they were wearing hoods to shadow their faces from the sun, and he couldn’t recognize them.

  Tatsu could think of no better way to avoid thinking about his hand than by exploring the grounds of the camp. He trudged slowly between tents and tried to keep himself out of the brunt of the sun as best he could. The tents were positioned to shroud the important supplies in shadow, but the blazing orb was almost directly overhead, offering little relief. Tatsu gave himself a short rest in a tent that smelled of incense and drying animal skins before heading back out again.

  He arrived shortly at the makeshift stable, the half-tent that opened wide on the far side and curved down, puckering where the iron darts pushed through the material into the sand. There was no sign of Yudai anywhere, but the small horses within the shade carried with them an air of home. Tatsu pressed his hand to one of the animal’s flanks. He expected the smooth hair of horses native to Chayd and was surprised when his fingers curled through coarse, almost wavy fur.

  The horse shook its head, mane flying out from side to side, and Tatsu wondered if the animal was laughing at him.

  As he waited with the desert mounts, a Cabaj-walker brought him a small, polished clay cup of water that smelled strong. The bitter taste was softened by a burst of sour at the end, neither of which Tatsu recognized. It was likely some kind of a tonic—after all, the Joesarians were known for their skills in alchemy, though he had yet to see any of the Cabaj-walkers exercise the skill.

  When Nys found him a while later, he inquired about it.

  “There are no alchemists here,” she said. “There are a few who joined the Cabaj-walkers, but they are not here with us. The drink is simply a desert recipe for quenching thirst.”

  She made no move to leave again.

  “Have you made a decision?” Tatsu asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Jotin is bringing your royal friend back now. He has the habit of wandering every few hours. Does he not sleep?”

  Yudai must have been worried about the siphon, then. His reluctance to stay in one place for too long was probably an attempt to stop the effects. There wasn’t much he could drain in the desert, but if it was growing stronger, perhaps he was worried about the siphon creeping into larger living things than only plants.

  Tatsu looked at the horse next to him, flicking its tail back and forth to scatter the large sandflies that buzzed around its haunches, and rubbed the creature’s neck again.

  Instead of answering Nys directly, Tatsu said, “He’s got a lot on his mind.”

  He hoped it wasn’t giving too much away. If Nys read anything else into it, she didn’t press the issue, and they sat in silence for a few minutes until Jotin and Yudai arrived.

  “Good,” Nys said, after they had all assembled. “We have decided to give you passage to Moswar. Jotin will be your guide to the city.”

  “You won’t be coming with us?” Tatsu asked.

  “Our work is here in the sands, keeping them safe,” she said. “We cannot spare the resources or time, but Jotin is a good choice. He will soon take his turn serving on the High Council in Moswar, and the chance to observe political dealings will serve him well.”

  Tatsu couldn’t read what Yudai was thinking. He was very quiet, chewing on the flesh inside his mouth.

  “Thank you,” Tatsu said to Nys. The sentiment was genuine. No matter what Yudai claimed, the Joesarians did not have to help them, and the aid was a welcome change.

  “Yes,” Yudai finally spoke, and nodded once to Nys. “I appreciate your offer.”

  “Then Jotin will be your desert guide,” she said, “and we will pray for your safe passage to the capital.”

  She left the open-air stable and disappeared into one of the nearby tents, leaving the three men alone.

  “Get anything ready that you need,” Jotin said. “Everyone here will be instructed to give you any provisions they can spare. We need water skins, food, and a shelter, and we can divide the duties of carrying it between us.”

  Yudai looked at the man with one raised eyebrow, though it didn’t appear malicious. “You seem adept at giving orders.”

  “As I will need to be while serving on the High Council,” Jotin said and mirrored Yudai’s expression right back at him. “It is good practice. Now ready yourselves—we leave at dusk.”

  Jotin, and his hawk, led them away from the Cabaj camp after evening fell, loaded with supplies to get across the sands intact. Tatsu had handled far heavier things, but carrying the weight was odd without two working hands. Jotin adopted a hard pace, clearly used to dealing with the desert difficulties, and it took quite an effort to keep up. Even with the cool air of sundown that settled around them, he was quickly out of breath, though at least he didn’t seem to be the only one struggling if Yudai’s huffing behind him was anything to go by.

&nbs
p; Near the middle of the night, Jotin sent his hawk off. As the bird took flight with several long flaps of its wings, Tatsu expected them to pause and wait, but instead, Jotin urged them onwards.

  “How will it find us later?” Tatsu asked.

  “He always finds me again after an hour or two. Things are easier to see from the air, including us.”

  “And you’ve trained him to look for oddities?” Tatsu asked, one boot sinking deep into a particularly soft section of sand. “He reports back with his findings?”

  Jotin smirked, and Tatsu couldn’t tell if it was aimed at his questions or his struggles with the dune. “He alerts me if anything is strange or different.”

  “Is that how you found us?”

  “Fools who wander into sandstorms certainly are strange,” Jotin said. “He was quite adamant after seeing you in the storm.”

  “And you understand him?” Yudai asked from behind Tatsu’s bad side.

  Jotin smiled fully then, and his teeth were blindingly white against his skin. “I do not use magic, if that is what you are asking. He uses bird sounds like normal. He simply won’t land until I investigate.”

  He continued forward, and Tatsu heard Yudai grumble next to him.

  “I wasn’t asking about magic. Obviously, the hawk uses bird sounds.”

  The hawk in question returned after an hour and landed without so much as a squawk, which somehow reassured Tatsu’s nerves that things around them were as they should be. As the sun rose, they stopped and set up the borrowed leather tent. Sleeping three within the small space wouldn’t be comfortable, but little about sleeping beneath the midday sun was conducive to any real sort of rest. Jotin woke with the setting of the sun as if he were trained to it and herded them off again as the sky darkened once more.