The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel

by Laura Resnick

  Whispering and muttering outside her door, Chandra decided, especially while she was trying to sleep, counted as impinging on her rights and comforts. She heard two lowered voices. They sounded like they were arguing. She wished they’d go argue somewhere else. She was about to get out of bed and tell them so when the door to her chamber creaked open.

  Chandra opened her eyes as her body went tense. Who was entering her room in the middle of the night?

  She heard the same two voices again, now in her doorway. Chandra’s room opened directly onto an outdoor walkway with a view of the mountains to the south and the sky overhead. Squinting through the dark, she saw two figures standing in her there, faintly illuminated by the moonlight.

  The two intruders were short—shorter than Brannon certainly, whose head only came up to Chandra’s shoulder. They were also broad and squat, with misshapen heads, and they moved in an odd, lumbering way, as if trying to keep their balance on the deck of a ship in rough waters. But it wasn’t until Chandra saw their brightly glowing orange eyes that she realized what they were.

  “Goblins?” she asked incredulously, so startled she forgot to feign sleep…

  The closer one stumbled back in surprise when she spoke, careening into the other. The second goblin gave a muffled shriek, hopping around on one foot—his other, it seemed, had been stomped on by his staggering companion.

  Chandra tilted her head back and blew a fiery breath straight upward. The resultant flame flew up to the ceiling and bounced tentatively there for a moment before it attached itself, burning like a torch to illuminate Chandra’s room.

  She got out of bed and looked at the intruders with unconcealed revulsion. “Goblins.”

  The red skin that covered their misshapen, bald heads had the texture of lumpy dough. Hair sprouted from their fungal ears and their scaly hands had claws as long as the yellow fangs that protruded from their mouths, dripping with saliva.

  “You’re drooling on my floor!” Chandra said in disgust.

  They also, she noticed, smelled terrible.

  The goblin hopping around on one foot gibbered at its companion in a tongue Chandra didn’t recognize. The other goblin hissed at her.

  “I’ll say this just once,” she told them, letting flames ripple boldly along her skin in an effort to intimidate them. “Get out of my room. Get out now.”

  The goblin that had hissed at her nudged its companion, who was still obsessed with the pain in his foot. Getting no reaction, the hissing goblin nudged again. This annoyed the second goblin, who put down his aching foot and irritably swatted the first goblin. The first one growled in annoyance, turned around, and hit him back.

  As if oblivious to Chandra’s presence, they were suddenly clobbering each other with vehemence, growling and gibbering. Chandra watched them for a few moments, but her amusement quickly palled, and she interrupted them with a stinging bolt of fire that got their attention.

  “What in the Multiverse are you two doing here?” she demanded.

  They blinked, as if startled to be reminded that they had invaded a woman’s bedchamber in a monastery where they had no business being. Although goblins practiced fire magic, they were unwelcome here. The Keralians had no interest in studying and working alongside creatures who had the manners, values, and sanitary habits of rabid animals.

  One of the goblins, evidently remembering the business at hand, bared its chipped yellow fangs and snarled, “Kill woman.”

  In unison, the two goblins gave a guttural little war cry, before launching themselves at Chandra.

  She moved her hands forward, calling golden heat into her palms, and warded off her attackers’ claws by throwing a large fireball into their faces. However, the goblins were perhaps more competent then they’d originally appeared. It was clear they had some moderate protection against fire, whether from a charm or spell. Chandra’s opening salvo left them unsinged, though slightly disoriented.

  Taking advantage of that moment, Chandra picked up the lone chair in her room, and brought it crashing down on the confused goblins. One of them screamed and clutched his bald head, staggering. Apparently rethinking his commitment to murder, he dashed out the door.

  The other goblin merely seemed to be enraged by the heavy blow. It snarled viciously and, doubling over, flew straight into Chandra’s knees. The chair flew out of Chandra’s grasp as she lost her balance and fell against the wall, propelled by the speed and surprising weight of her attacker.

  The goblin tried to tear out her throat with its fangs, but Chandra gouged the beast’s fiery orange eyes with one hand and pulled its hairy ear as hard as she could with the other, trying to pull its head away from her neck. While the beast was temporarily blinded, she balled her fist and transferred all her energy there. Her knuckles superheated like molten lava and she punched the goblin in the stomach. As the wind and a considerable amount of spittle was knocked out of her assailant, she pushed with her fist again, twisting it from side to side in an effort to cook the thing from the inside out.

  She squirmed beneath her adversary, trying to shift her weight so that the goblin’s dripping saliva and revolting breath weren’t in such close proximity to her face.

  “Chandra? Chandra!”

  She risked glancing away from her opponent and saw Brother Sergil standing in the doorway, blinking at her. There were a couple of other Keralians behind him, also attracted by the commotion.

  “There’s a second goblin!” Chandra shouted. “It got away! Stop it! Get it!”

  “A second …” Sergil gasped, still staring at her. “Fires above! What are you doing to that goblin?’”

  “Get the other one!” Chandra shouted, as the goblin took advantage of her distraction to throw its weight. She was suddenly rolling around on the floor with her gruesome opponent.

  “Do you want some help with that?”

  “Sergil! Get the … Agh!” She cried out in sudden pain when the beast’s claw drew blood from her thigh. “… other one!”

  “There’s another one?” Brother Sergil said, sounding appalled, but he and the other monks disappeared before she could reply.

  Trying to keep the goblin’s fangs away from her throat, Chandra kept pressing her molten fist into its muscular belly. Her magic was much stronger than anything claimed by this stinking thing, she knew. She just needed a little more time … And, sure enough, a moment later, she felt the goblin’s skin start to sizzle. The stench of burning cloth arose from the spot, followed by the sickly smell of roasting flesh. The goblin quivered, snarled again … then let out a howl of pain and released its hold on Chandra, intent now on getting away from her. She tried to cling to it, telling herself to take it captive, but really wanting to kill it. However, its fight or flight instinct had taken a distinct turn toward flight and Chandra released it rather than have her arm chewed off.

  The goblin scrambled to its feet and ran out the door. Chandra leaped up and followed it out of the room. The claw wound on her thigh stung sharply now, slowing her down. She tried not to think about what sort of horrible, festering infection she would get from a filthy goblin claw.

  On the walkway outside, the goblin barreled into a startled woman, who screamed, but the collision didn’t stop the goblin’s flight. Other Keralians were running around and shouting, apparently looking for the goblin that had previously fled. Chandra followed this goblin down the walkway and toward the eastern terrace.

  “Chandra!” a familiar voice cried.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw Brannon running toward her, trying to catch up. “Stay back!” she ordered.

  “I’ll help you!”

  “Stay back!” Chandra doubted the goblin would have any scruples about killing a child.

  “Brannon!” Brother Sergil shouted. “Stay with me!”

  Chandra kept after the goblin.

  Moving awkwardly, but quite fast nonetheless, the hideous assassin ran across the eastern terrace and straight for the stairway that led down to the herb gar
den below, from which it could escape over the red stone wall and into the dark night.

  Chandra stretched out her arms, incredibly angry that this whole thing was happening. But anger was good for Chandra. Anger tapped that part of her that made the fire hot. Anger was the accelerant that took fire to inferno. That little beast was not getting away. Chandra raised a wall of fire around the fleeing goblin. He tried to run through it, but the wall grew thicker, moving with him as he ran, the circle shrinking in on him so that he couldn’t escape. Shrieking in panic now, the goblin hesitated, unsure if any direction were better than another. And the flames closed in on him, no matter which direction he turned as he sought to flee the fire’s destructive hunger.

  Chandra’s magic was much stronger than whatever pathetic power this lumpish assassin could claim. She only needed another moment … And sure enough, the goblin screamed in pain as he was consumed by the fire, his thrashing discernible even through the shifting wall that closed on him like a molten iron maiden.

  When the glowing remnants of the dying goblin vanished and all that remained was her own fire, Chandra let go of her spell. The flames calmed, no longer moving and shifting to imprison her enemy. With nothing fueling it, the fire she had called forth began to die. Within a few moments, it would disappear altogether.

  Chandra was breathing heavily, but she was no longer angry. Only her throbbing leg served as a reminder of the rage that had beaten so furiously in her heart moments ago. She wiped perspiration from her face, smoothed away the lingering flames from her long red hair, and leaned over, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

  Her head turned quickly when she heard footsteps approaching her, but she relaxed when she saw Luti, wearing a long, copper-colored robe. The mother mage’s white hair was loosely braided and hanging over one shoulder. Her dark eyes were alert as she gazed at Chandra’s dying fire on the eastern terrace.

  “A goblin attack, they’re saying,” Luti said.

  Chandra nodded. “Two of them.”

  “Yes, I heard. Unfortunately, no one can find the other one. It must have got away.”

  “Oh.” Chandra steadied her breathing and stood upright again. “I don’t think it’ll come back. It didn’t seem to be the persistent type.”

  Luti noticed her bleeding leg. “You’re hurt.”

  “Goblin claw.”

  Luti grimaced. “We’ll have to clean it and keep an eye on it. Fortunately, it doesn’t look serious. But it’ll sting for a few days.”

  “Chandra!” Brannon called, running toward her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him as he reached her side.

  “Was that really a goblin, like they’re saying?” he asked eagerly.

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I had gotten a good look. I’ve never seen one!”

  “They’re disgusting,” she said. “I can’t believe that female goblins actually … well … whatever they do.”

  Luti asked her, “Did you know your attackers?”

  “Know them?” Chandra blinked. “They were goblins.”

  “You never saw them before?”

  “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all, I guess.”

  “I wish you’d take this seriously, Chandra,” Luti said. “But if you don’t think they were personal enemies of yours, and considering we haven’t had a goblin attack here in many years … I think we can guess who sent them.”

  “Who sent …” Chandra realized what she meant. “You mean the oufes? They can sure carry a grudge for little guys.”

  “Yes,” Luti said. “Even though it was, of course, only a small portion of the forest.”

  “No, no,” Samir said, sitting in Mother Luti’s private workshop in the monastery five days later. “Not all the woodlanders. There’s some ill feeling about the fire among other factions, of course, but it’s only the oufes who are calling for your execution, Chandra.”

  Samir, who looked more harassed than usual, had made the trip up the mountain that day to update Mother Luti and Chandra on the situation in the Great Western Wood.

  “Only the oufes,” Chandra repeated, shifting her position to stretch her sore leg. The claw wound was healing well, but it still ached a little.

  Luti said, “I suppose we can regard that as good news.”

  “Actually, it’s one particular tribe of oufes.” Samir added wearily, “A big tribe.”

  “Presumably the tribe in whose territory the fire occurred?” Luti said.

  “Yes. I’ve tried reasoning with them. To explain that Chandra was fighting a ghost warden who had invaded our lands to spy on us.” Samir sighed. “But you know what oufes are like.”

  Luti said, “Not amenable to reason.”

  “Not really.” He shrugged and added, “To them, the forest is sacred. What happened in the woods that day has offended them deeply. Imagine what the Keralians would do if some came in and set your monastery on fire … Okay, bad example, but you get what I mean.

  “They insist that nothing less than Chandra’s death will atone for the destruction of the forest. They’re calling for her assassination.”

  “We supposed so,” Luti said, “since as of now there have been three energetic attempts on Chandra’s life.”

  Samir said, “And since those attempts failed, this morning the tribe increased the size of the reward they’re offering for her death.”

  “What sort of reward do oufes offer?” Chandra said with a frown. “Most of the killers I’ve met aren’t so keen on pussy willow trees.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know what they are offering,” Samir said. “But you’ve seen the caliber of assassin they are attracting.”

  “Thank goodness for small mercies,” Luti said dryly. “Even so, we must resolve this matter.”

  Chandra said, “Maybe if I talked to them—”

  “No,” said Luti and Samir in unison.

  Chandra blinked.

  Samir said more gently, “Oufes don’t leave the forest, so they certainly won’t come here. And if you entered the forest, my friend, there’s nothing I can say or do that would protect you from the tribe’s wrath. Not in their current frame of mind, anyway.”

  “I can handle a little oufe wrath,” Chandra said dismissively.

  “And burn down more of the forest?” Luti said. “No.”

  “Mother Luti is right, Chandra,” said Samir. “While the tribe remains this angry, I feel sure that a confrontation would only worsen the situation. We don’t want that. Especially not at a time when cooperation between the monastery and the woodlanders is vital.”

  “So what’s the solution?” Chandra said in frustration. “I just keep fighting off the assassins that come after me every day or two?”

  “No, of course not,” Samir said. “We must find a way to resolve this matter peaceably. You mentioned there were other attacks?”

  “Yes,” Luti said, “and you know about the goblins. But there was also a very large man with an axe outside the walls of the monastery. Luckily, he was more accustomed to chopping wood than people or he might have hurt Brannon.”

  “Brannon was attacked?” Samir repeated, clearly horrified.

  “Perhaps not intentionally, but he was with Chandra when the idiot tried to take her down. Then, most recently, an archer sent a few arrows from that rock outcropping near the west wall. Fortunately,” Luti said, “the archer had poor aim and lacked stealth, so he didn’t survive even until midday. But what next? How many attempts on her life must Chandra endure? And how long before someone else gets injured in one of these attacks? Or even killed?”

  “That’s an excellent point,” Samir said with a nod. “I will appeal to the tribe on the basis of justice. If they persist in their quest for vengeance, they could be responsible for the death of an innocent person. Even a child!”

  “Will that argument sway them?” Luti asked.

  “Not immediately,” Samir admitted. “Empathy is not an oufe characteristic
.”

  Luti shook her head in exasperation. “Oufes. Even the smallest spark left unattended can make a fire.”

  “Have patience for now,” Samir urged, “and give me time. I believe I can persuade them to call off these attacks. Oufes also tend to have short memories.”

  Luti sighed, then nodded. “All right, Samir. I have faith in your leadership and your powers of persuasion. We will try to be patient. Meanwhile …” She frowned down at her folded hands.

  “Meanwhile?” Chandra prodded.

  “Meanwhile, inform the tribe that Chandra has left the monastery.”

  Samir shook his head. “If I tell them a falsehood and they find out, then I will lose—”

  “It’s not a falsehood,” Luti said. “At least, it won’t be by this time tomorrow.”

  “I’m not running away!” Chandra said.

  “Of course you’re not,” said Luti. “You are, at my request, leaving on a mission on behalf of the monastery.”

  “I am?” Chandra said suspiciously.

  “Yes. A mission that only you can accomplish.” Their eyes met. “We’ll discuss the details later.”

  A mission that only you can accomplish …

  Did Luti want her to planeswalk? Chandra’s curiosity was kindled, but planeswalking wasn’t something they could discuss in front of Samir, so she nodded in acceptance of Luti’s statement.

  “So …” Samir looked from Luti to Chandra, then back to Luti. “If I tell the tribe tomorrow that Chandra has left the monastery, I will be speaking the truth?”

  Luti nodded. “And if you think it will help cool their rage, tell them Chandra has been sent away as punishment for what happened. That’s not our way here, of course, but I rather doubt that oufes know—or care—what our ways are.”

  “Tell them I’m being punished?” Chandra was insulted. “I don’t want a bunch of oufes thinking—”

  “Does it really matter what oufes think of you, Chandra?” Luti said impatiently. “If it means these disruptive attacks cease, so be it. I just want to resolve this matter as quickly as possible, so that we can give our full attention to dealing with the Order!”