by Adam Carter
Glancing back to the soldiers, Asperathes was glad to see that Moya’s outburst had slowed their approach, for they had seen her blow someone’s face off and were understandably wary. Asperathes reasoned that now they had their prey backed into a corner, they were awaiting confirmation of their orders.
“Crenshaw, do something with her.”
“Do something with her?” Crenshaw asked. “She’s not a wagon that needs fixing.”
“More a horse that needs breaking. Just do something.”
Crenshaw glowered at him, probably because of the horse remark, but dropped beside the young woman regardless. He placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder and said, “Karina, please. We need your help.”
“I killed him.”
“I know.”
“He wasn’t Drake.”
“I know that too.”
“I …”
“Karina, we’ve all done bad things in life. I once accidentally killed a young girl I was supposed to be saving; and Asp? Well, Asp’s been paid to do horrible things to people. So what have you done? You’ve killed a guy who was busy betraying us to the enemy. That’s not so bad.”
“I killed him.”
“We’re past that. Besides, you also saved him, so just pretend you didn’t bother conjuring up that storm before.”
Asperathes could see this was not working. Humans were an interesting species, but he did not like to place his life in their hands. “Listen to me, woman. You killed that boy out there for a reason. You killed him because you thought he was Drake, and you know what that tells me? It tells me you have a lot of rage inside you, Karina Moya. It tells me you want to kill Drake, that you want to burn him to oblivion.” He crouched before her and raised her chin with a finger. “You can’t kill Drake from the grave, Moya. Fall today and he wins. Everything he did to you, everything he did to your father … he wins. And he’s laughing at you.”
Moya exploded. Afterwards, Asperathes could think of no better word to describe what happened, although at the time he was not quite certain what was happening. One moment he was trying to convince her to get off her backside and save their lives, the next he was no longer on his feet. Moya was standing, or floating perhaps, and she was screaming. A terrible howling deafened Asperathes as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Wind was streaking through the alleyway, had grabbed all three of them and had raised them several feet into the air, but there was no cold, no feeling of anything battering against their bodies. Loose bricks and cracked slates remained on the ground, and even the broken drainpipe did not so much as shake. It was not therefore an actual wind which had seized them, and Asperathes decided he sometimes hated magic.
As he looked into the eyes of the sorceress, his cold blood chilled almost to freezing, for he understood just where the wind originated.
Rage.
The wind was pure, undiluted rage.
Asperathes began to fear he had perhaps done something rather foolish.
He could see soldiers shouting, but their words were drowned by the noise of Moya’s fury. Several attempted to charge upon their quarry, but were pushed back by the fierce barrier Moya had erected.
And then, suddenly, Moya was calm. The wind barrier remained, the three of them were still floating several feet from the floor, but the howling in Asperathes’s ears had vanished. In fact, there was no noise at all, as though he had been deafened by Moya’s powers. It took him a few moments to realise the absence of white noise stemmed from their being cut off from the rest of the world. Moya had created a bubble, around whose edges the magical winds danced.
Moya’s face was calm now. Gone was any trace of fear or regret, but also the rage had left her. It was strange to look upon her and Asperathes felt sorry for Drake should she ever catch up to him.
Without a word, Moya raised her arms and the hard-wind bubble took to the air. Seeing their prey escape, the soldiers pressed their attack, the captain of the guard at their head. Asperathes could see they would reach the bubble before it had drifted over their heads, but as the enemy swords slashed the bubble, the blades were deflected.
The bubble rose from the alley and Asperathes could see the captain, red in the face and yelling, although he could hear no sound. They left the alley behind, the bubble bouncing on rooftops as it passed them. Asperathes could see the surprise on people’s faces and even laughed at the sight of the soldiers running to and fro, horses colliding in their riders’ confusion.
At the edge of the village, the bubble began to descend, even as it picked up speed. Asperathes braced himself as the bubble struck the ground. He expected it to bounce, but as soon as it touched the ground it disintegrated, throwing both men into a tumble. Moya herself floated gently to the ground, her feet setting down firmly. Her arms lowered, her gait slumped and she seemed human again.
“If I knew you could have done that,” Crenshaw said, “we could have saved on a lot of walking.”
Moya looked around with a frown. “Where are we?”
“Where you put us.”
Asperathes said nothing, but watched her intently. He could see her mind working, could see her figuring out what must have happened. That she was able to wield such power and not even realise she was doing so … it was unnerving, to say the least.
“We should move,” Crenshaw said. “We’re a couple of miles out of the village, but those soldiers have horses.”
“There’s a river ahead,” Asperathes said, keeping a close watch upon the wizard. “I saw it on our way down.”
“Gives us something to head for,” Crenshaw said.
“There’s something we’re not addressing, Crenshaw.”
“And what’s that? If Karina wants to talk to us, she’ll talk.”
“It has nothing to do with Karina.” Asperathes glanced her way and could see she was still deep in thought. “Those soldiers were from the baroness. You told the villagers we attacked her castle, so that’s what the boy told the soldiers. So far as the baroness sees things, we were the ones who attacked her.”
He could see this sinking in, because Crenshaw lost some of his gusto. “That depends what happened to the actual attackers,” he said.
“It makes no difference to those soldiers behind us,” Asperathes pointed out.
“I don’t want to find Drake,” Moya said. She was back to being scared, which Asperathes found quite laughable considering her power. “If I travel with you two, I need you to promise me you’ll stop me if I ever try to go after him.”
“Then don’t travel with us,” Asperathes said.
“Of course we promise,” Crenshaw said, casting a baleful expression at the apepkith. “But, before we think of anything, we need to get to that river.”
Moya took the lead and Asperathes watched her go. He knew Crenshaw wanted to say something to him, so he spoke first. “That woman is going to be the death of us, Jobek.”
“That woman is a troubled young soul who needs our help and understanding. You need to show a bit more feeling, Asp.”
“She’s more powerful than any of us realise, including herself. Haven’t you noticed she doesn’t even know what she’s doing?”
“She’s been through a lot, and she’s not as experienced as the two of us.”
“We’ve all lost everything, Jobek. Trust me, there’s more to her than we know.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“In all our years together in that cell, how many magic users were put with us? Not including faeries. How many human magic users?”
“None that I recall.”
“And why now?”
“If you’re suggesting Karina’s a plant of the baroness, I think you’re being a little …”
“Of course she’s not a plant. She doesn’t know what she is. I’m just saying we need to watch her and, if necessary, take her down.”
“Kill her? Asp, now you’re really talking nonsense.”
“She’s not the daughter or kid sister you neve
r had, Jobek.”
Crenshaw stormed off after the young woman. Asperathes knew he should not have said that, but the truth was he was terrified. He almost wished he was back in his cell. At least then he knew from which direction death would come.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Things were not going as Crenshaw expected. Their escape from prison should have marked a new beginning; instead it seemed as though they would be on the run for the rest of their lives. His main concern was still Moya, especially after the episode at the village. He knew Asperathes would have gladly abandoned her, but she was not just an ally, she was a friend, and Crenshaw had never abandoned either.
The three travellers had crossed the river and come upon a trader heading along a well-travelled road. After exchanging pleasant words, he allowed them to jump onto the back of his wagon and they were able to move a mile from the river without having their spoor on the ground. Hearing the distant bark of dogs, they had slipped off the back of the wagon and run frantically through fields neighbouring the road. Crenshaw felt a little sorry for the trader when the soldiers caught up with him, but with any luck it would take them some time to backtrack and find the place where the three of them had gone off the road.
They did not slow their pace until they came to another settlement. Thankfully the town was much larger than any they had been to thus far, and as they passed through into the crowds they knew they were safe from pursuit. It was a town almost bordering on city size, so far as Crenshaw remembered them, and was populated by a great variety of species. Humans of every colour and size peddled their wares, while apepkith strolled boldly through in fine attire. Several urchins danced their way between people’s legs, their long wet snouts and soft coats of bristles making them stand out from any human waifs. A group of cat-like tigris were laughing drunkenly outside a large tavern, while two faerie women gossiped as they hung washing out to dry two storeys above the street.
It was, Crenshaw thought, a magnificent sight.
While they wended their way through the masses, Crenshaw tried to remember the name of the town, but in all honesty he did not even recall there being a town here at all. He had forgotten much since his incarceration, which was annoying since his knowledge could have been the most useful thing he could provide the team.
“I’m going to find out what I can about the baroness’s soldiers,” Asperathes said. “If we’re lucky, they don’t come here often so won’t want to march through this place.”
“Good idea,” Crenshaw said. “I have something I want to do.”
Asperathes glanced to Moya; the two men had spent so long together that Asperathes knew precisely what he was talking about. “Good luck with that, Crenshaw.”
Crenshaw watched the apepkith slink through the crowd and wondered why he only ever called him Jobek when he wanted something.
Taking Moya by the hand, he led her through the town. It was busy, full of bodies and noise, and he could see Moya was taking it all in. She had a lost look on her face, which surprised Crenshaw considering it was he and Asperathes who had been locked away for years. It struck him that, having grown up in a small community, this could have been the largest settlement in which she had ever set foot.
“Stay close to me,” he said while they walked.
“How can I not? You’re holding my hand.”
Crenshaw felt suddenly self-conscious of that, although not enough to make him let go. Moya seemed to find his embarrassment amusing and he marvelled at how quickly she could change from an insanely powerful demi-god to a playful, jovial young woman.
“Are we going anywhere nice?” she asked.
“I don’t know this town, I don’t know these people, but every big settlement is pretty similar.”
“Your evasion of the question makes me suspect we’re going somewhere for me. And not in a good way.”
“You have telepathy as well now?”
“I can read emotions pretty well, Joe.”
It was the first time she had called him Joe and it felt strange to hear it. It only reinforced his belief that what he was doing was the right thing. “You’re broken, Karina. I’m taking you to someone who can hopefully fix you.”
“Oh. Well, while I appreciate your honesty, I’m not broken.”
She pulled her hand away and stopped walking. The streets were so crowded that Crenshaw had to stop immediately for fear she would lose herself in all the people. “Asp would be happy to desert you,” he told her, “but I’m not about to do that. But if we travel together and I don’t address this, I’m just as much deserting you as if I’d abandoned you here.”
“You’re saying you’d be deserting me in spirit if not in body?”
“I don’t have a flowery way of talking, Karina. But I’m afraid you’re going to harm yourself if I don’t get you some professional help.”
“Then you’re talking about a shrink?”
“I’m not qualified to help you, so yes I’m talking about a shrink.”
Moya did not seem angry, even seemed to be seriously considering what he was saying. “I’m flattered you care,” she said at last. “But if we go to a doctor I’m going to have to reveal what I am. And what I am is an untrained sorceress. That’s going to get me arrested, killed even. You’re being honest with me, Joe, so I’m being honest with you. Getting killed is not something I’m intending to do here.”
“If that’s not honesty, I don’t know what is. A compromise then.”
“What would that be?”
“Trust me.” He held out his hand and waited. She did not look at it, did not look at anything else in fact; her gaze remained upon his eyes as she chewed the inside of her cheek in thought. At last, she placed her hand in his, her lips curling on one side.
“I trust you,” she said. “Just don’t let me down.”
“If I did, Asp would never let me hear the end of it.”
Moya did not question him further and it was not long before Crenshaw managed to find the type of place he was looking for. From outside, the place looked small, with windows stacked full of jars and phials cutting off much of the light. A rich aroma surrounded the building, formed of so many different scents, overpowered by the thick smell of burning incense. The door was narrow and, as Crenshaw pushed it, a little bell tingled. He could not see why, for the shop was so compact with jars that there was hardly anywhere to move, so it would be pretty obvious if there was a customer inside. Directly before him was a counter, behind which sat a short woman, grinding a foul-smelling substance into powder. She smiled at their approach, revealing several missing teeth, and set down the mortar. Her pale face was filled with hard lines and her hair was so white and wispy that Crenshaw was having a difficult time telling her age. She showed so many signs of being elderly, yet his impression was that she was only in her thirties.
It was, Crenshaw reflected, what life tucked away in the dark did for you.
“Good day, sir,” the woman said. “Welcome to Hilda’s Hidden Hovel. What can I do for you and your lovely daughter?”
“Karina’s not my daughter.”
“Oh,” the woman smiled, “then aren’t you a lucky thing?”
“Lucky?” Crenshaw asked.
Moya nudged him coyly. “We’re not like that, either,” she told Hilda. “My friend here says I’m screwed in the head and he wants something to make sure I don’t kill anyone.”
Hilda lost some of her joviality.
“It’s mainly to protect her,” Crenshaw said, “from herself. Do you have anything which might help?”
“I’m an apothecary, dearie, not a brain surgeon.”
“You must have something to help someone through troubled times. Lotus flowers, don’t they help people forget?”
“Asphodels,” Hilda said.
Moya straightened, which Crenshaw saw as an odd reaction. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Moya said. “Just that word. I remember asphodels.”
“Which is ironic.”
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She glowered at him. “I’m being serious.”
“I thought you wanted to forget Drake.”
“I don’t want to forget him, I just want to avoid him.”
“You’ll feel a whole lot better if you forget he ever existed.”
He could see Moya was not convinced, but if this was not sorted it could well destroy her. Ordinarily he would not have insisted on anything of this nature, especially with someone he had only just met, but Moya had no one left in life, no one who cared for her. If left to her own devices, within the month she would be dead, or worse.
“If you really think this is for the best,” she said, “I’ll go along with it. But I’m doing this for you, Jobek. Because I trust you.”
Hilda watched this exchange with increasing interest. Crenshaw did not know whether it was because she smelled a profit or because she found their conversation interesting. Crenshaw was trying desperately hard not to mention Moya’s talents, but if Hilda truly was going to help her he was debating on taking just such a risk.
“I haven’t said I can do anything yet,” Hilda said.
“But you can?”
She shrugged. “I have a little experience in this sort of thing. How do you think love potions work?”
Crenshaw hesitated. “I never thought they did work.”
“Oh, they work all right. Just not the way people think they do. I find the majority of people who want those potions are love-struck fools whose flower of their life either hasn’t noticed them or has noticed someone else. All my love potions do is remove distractions.”
“Remove them?” Crenshaw asked. “You mean you put slivers of metal in the phials or something?”
“Not kill them, no. If a man loves a girl and that girl loves another man, all my potion does is make the girl forget about the other man.”
“And that works?”
“That’s where repeat doses come into play. If the girl takes enough doses, she’ll have forgotten about all the men in her life, all her hobbies, all her loves. Eventually she’ll become a zombie, awaiting the orders of whosoever holds her in sway.”