Chasers of the Wind

by Alexey Pehov

  There’s no way we could escape now.

  “Don’t panic.” I heard my voice as if someone else were talking. “Take everything off the table! Now!”

  Thank Melot, this wasn’t the first time my former pals had found themselves in a tricky situation. They did not bother to contest my right to command them. They asked no questions and got down to business. Quickly and precisely.

  “Layen, go into the other room.”

  I won’t let him take me so easily!

  And I won’t let him have you either!

  I tossed Midge his knife. He caught it deftly and slipped it into the top of his boot. I hope the little rat will be able to use it if we get pinned down.

  I quickly glanced around at my troops. They had skillfully positioned themselves around the room—they were Giiyans, after all. They occupied all the most favorable spots. Midge sat by the door, and Whip was next to the stove. Shen was not far from the oven fork. And Bamut was standing by the window.

  Steps rang out on the porch and then the necromancer entered. I disliked his face before, but today I wanted to punch it.

  “Where is she?”

  The Sdisian took no notice of Whip’s men. Not a very smart move, if you ask me. Especially if Midge is looming behind your back. If I found myself in such a situation, I’d be trying to grow eyes out the back of my head.

  “Who?” I played the fool.

  “Your wife. I’d advise against concealing her.”

  “What’s she to you, sir? We haven’t done anything.”

  “You have nothing to fear, carpenter. We simply want to talk to her.”

  “And if she doesn’t want that?” I asked, somewhat rudely.

  “Do you wish me to tear your house down around you?”

  He was too sure of himself and he didn’t consider us a danger. Those who possess magic very often put ordinary people on the same level as animals. Big mistake. The lad clearly didn’t know that sometimes animals are dangerous to people. Especially rats. They bite when you’re least expecting it. Stealthily. Suddenly. Just like my friend Midge loves to do.

  And just like he was doing right now. Obeying an almost unnoticeable sign from Whip, he went into action. For all my dislike of Midge, I was ready to kiss him. Regardless of what a brute he was, you could see he was a master from a league off.

  It was so quick that I missed the moment when his knife migrated from his bootleg to his hand. The next second the Sdisian’s throat was slit open from ear to ear.

  It turns out that killing a necromancer isn’t a speck more difficult than dispatching some fat merchant to the Blessed Gardens. For a moment it was as if a stupor fell over all of us. And then the usual frenzy of battle set in. I hurled my axe at a Mort who appeared on the threshold. I hit him, but unfortunately I did not kill him.

  Whip, who had armed himself with the heavy wooden bench, smashed it into the wounded creature’s face with all his strength, causing him to fly backward out the door. He slammed the door shut before the four remaining Morts had time to get to us.

  No more than five seconds had passed since we’d attacked the White.

  “Layen!” I bellowed.

  My sun was already next to me. She handed me my bow and quiver, and then she rushed to help Midge. He was sitting on top of the still living sorcerer and repeatedly stabbing him with his knife. The white silk robe had turned red. The face and hands of the Giiyan were covered in the other man’s blood but this did not disconcert him at all. Better to be befouled than to give the necromancer the chance to speak an incantation.

  Layen took the staff that the necromancer had dropped on the floor, thrust the sharp end of it into the body of her enemy, and twisted it. The sorcerer shuddered and finally died.

  “Ready!” Midge quickly liberated the saber from the corpse. He tossed his prize to Whip, who completely forgot about the bench once he had his hands on the blade.

  “Bamut, in the other room, under the bed,” I said. “There’s a crossbow and the bolts are…”

  I didn’t even have time to finish speaking before he was rushing for the weapon.

  One of the Morts decided to come in through the window without stopping to think. There he encountered Shen and the oven fork. He struck at the Mort’s face, nearly got hit by the creature’s skeem, jumped backward, and jabbed it in the gut. That time he was successful. The time had come for me to do a little work. The first arrow sliced clean through the neck of the most persistent of these warriors of the Waste. The second hit his comrade in the face. Everything was suddenly quiet.

  Bamut returned. His pockmarked face was shining with happiness. And really, how could it be otherwise? He’d finally been reunited with his closest friend—the crossbow. Whip’s henchman was quite a good shot with that thing, so I was sure we’d work well together when it came time to shoot. Just as long as we had enough arrows and bolts. I had five regular arrows, another two were serrated, and five more with narrow heads that could pierce armor. It really wasn’t enough, but there was nothing I could do about that. All my reserves were in the shed, but we couldn’t make it there now.

  “That’s how you take down sorcerers.” Midge’s ratlike face was covered in blood. “He’s deader than dead.”

  “You’re mistaken.” Layen turned toward the assassin, and he shrank back in shock. He was right to be afraid. My sun’s eyes were blazing with blue flame. She was harnessing her spark. “They’re trying to revive him.”

  “Who?” blurted Shen.

  “The one I’m afraid of. Hold the door. I need time.” She picked up the Sdisian’s staff with two hands and the top suddenly flashed, began to change shape, to dwindle. The skull transformed from a man’s to a woman’s and opened its gaping mouth.

  * * *

  Tia immediately sensed that somewhere nearby a person had died, but she didn’t give it any special consideration. How should she know who it might be? Peasants have been dropping like flies since the dawn of time. Some from hunger, some from illness, some from drunkenness. It’s hardly surprising, with the life they led. So when her inherent, feminine curiosity finally got the better of her laziness, it was almost too late.

  She immediately felt the silvery filaments of the necromancer’s soul, vibrating like a string. It was about to flow away into the Abyss.

  There was no time to be astonished or to guess what had happened. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Damned seized the filaments, trying not to let them leave this world. She succeeded. Now she had to return them to his body and attach them to the dead shell in time. She still had uses for the sorcerer.

  Typhoid began slowly and carefully drawing the silver strings back, simultaneously weaving a complex incantation that would allow her to relinquish her hold without fear of losing the soul.

  She almost succeeded. When all that remained were a few short tugs on his soul, the Damned was rudely interrupted. The blow to her hold was so strong and sudden that, not expecting anything of the kind, Tia momentarily lost control of her own magic. Just for a brief minute her grip weakened and the essence of the Elect, captured with such difficulty, flowed like water through her fingers. And then it was gone.

  Roaring with rage and frustration, Typhoid leaped from the bathtub.

  * * *

  “It’s done!” sighed Layen.

  She faltered and I grasped her by the elbow to keep her from falling over.

  “He very nearly stood up! With that slit throat! Did you see that?” Bamut’s hands were visibly shaking and his voice was hoarse.

  “We saw,” replied Shen gloomily. All his mockery and spite had melted away in an instant. His face was serious and even the oven fork in his hands no longer seemed comical. “What else can we expect from your hobgoblin?”

  “Anything at all. Now he knows about us. I can’t hold out against him for long.”

  “Shouldn’t we get to the forest?” asked Midge, wiping off his face with the white tablecloth taken from the table.

  “We’re going
to try,” I replied, calculating our line of retreat. The best bet was probably to go along our street to the bridge and then past the mill. The forest was very close there. It wouldn’t be hard to get lost in it. The main problem was getting out of the village.

  “Stop gossiping!” The voice of Whip, who was standing by the window, brought me back to earth. The Morts were rallying.

  I reached for my quiver but Layen tossed her head wrathfully.

  “Don’t waste your arrows. Let me. We’ll make a break for the forest. Whip! Heads up!”

  He didn’t need to be asked twice. He quickly ducked to the side. My sun spun the staff over her head, pointed it at the door, and cried out in a guttural voice, “Rragon-rro!”

  The skull howled deafeningly. Bamut, forgetting about his crossbow, fell facedown onto the floor. The house shook so hard that for a moment my vision darkened.

  * * *

  “Ha!” exclaimed Luk, who was lying near the window, as he grabbed Ga-Nor by the sleeve of his shirt. “Ha!”

  Even from so far away, it was obvious that something out of the ordinary was happening on the other side of the village. The roof of one of the houses flew a good twenty yards up into the air and then crashed down in the neighboring vegetable patch. Then the view was obscured by a cloud of dust rising up to the sky.

  * * *

  The sudden burst of power caused Tia to swear in surprise. She even stopped getting dressed. She just froze on the spot. Wet and half-naked.

  What was happening right now seemed impossible. Oh, that necromancer! It’s too bad they’d killed him; otherwise she would have done it herself. How could that ignoramus not have noticed how powerful a prodigy that peasant woman was!

  The nameless woman was strong. The Damned had not expected to find such a vivid spark in this wilderness. Judging from the magical echo, this peasant could hold her own with many of the Walkers. In addition, the fool had an uncommon mastery over her own talent, because very few people could take control of someone else’s staff and weave their Gift around magic of a different persuasion. But this one dexterously toyed with the power of Death. A real talent. A woman like that needed to be nourished and cherished. Or killed, so she could capture that spark for herself.

  Typhoid took the pins out of her hair, causing both her braids to slap down onto her wet back. She tossed the costly trifles onto the floor without so much as a look, and quickly pulled on her skirt. Of course, she could attack from here, but that would be the same as shooting blindly. She’d either miss her mark or kill the woman outright. No. She would catch this bitch alive and question her properly. She must have had a teacher. Without the proper knowledge and preparation, it was impossible to overwhelm a khilss (a staff of a necromancer. This magical artifact is the result of a succession of complex magical rituals and is a half-dead, half-living object. Its magic can only be aroused if its master unites his soul with the staff and imbues it with a portion of his Gift and vital force. The head of the staff takes on the form of the skull of whoever is master of the khilss at a given moment). And when she knew everything, she’d take that power for herself.

  It crossed Typhoid’s mind that it might not be a childlike girl-prodigy standing against her, but a Walker from the Council.

  No. What nonsense. The Mother (the leader of the Walkers. She is selected by a majority vote of the Council of Walkers, thirty-three of the strongest mages in the Empire) would never send one of her daughters on a suicide mission. Besides, if the girl were a Walker, she never would have exposed herself like this. But all the same, she should exercise caution and look before she leaped.

  The Damned snapped her fingers and the room darkened for a moment. The shadows condensed and twisted into the shape of a black raven. It cawed hoarsely and flew out the window, breaking the glass.

  Putting on her shirt as she went and cursing at the stiffness of her boots, Tia ran out the door.

  * * *

  I had seen Layen’s Gift in action more than once or twice. But even in my most daring dreams I never imagined she was capable of this.

  The roof of our house flew up to the sky with a roar and a crash. The solid pine logs, from which the walls were constructed, flew apart in all directions like kindling. My eyes stung from the cloud of dust enshrouding us and, frankly speaking, it was not easy to breathe. Also, I feared that while we couldn’t see any farther than our own noses, the Morts would seize the moment and hack us into tiny chunks. But my fears were for naught; no one rushed in to attack us. Midge was swearing and blaspheming so loudly that, should Melot catch wind of his clamoring, Whip’s companion would never see the inside of the Blessed Gardens. Bamut was trying to support his comrade in the high art of swearing, but by the fifth word he began coughing and couldn’t continue.

  Eventually the dust began to settle. I stood right by Layen, protecting her from any possible dangers. My chance companions, on the other hand, tried to move as far away from her as possible. Idiots! Did they really not have enough brains to realize that we wouldn’t make it a hundred yards down the street without her magical protection?

  Despite the lull, I did not take my arrow away from the bowstring. Who knew what might jump out at us? It’s thoughtless, at the very least, to be absently picking your nose when trouble threatens. You might just get your hand cut off while you’re pulling out your finger. Layen wasn’t counting crows either. The staff was unambiguously pointed at the spot where the door used to be. I have to say, the necromancer’s bauble unnerved me. No, there was nothing calming about a hissing skull, obviously displeased with the sudden change in its master.

  Layen noticed my anxious gaze and said soothingly, I have a hold on it.

  Hold tight, I advised just in case. I wouldn’t be surprised if that thing bites.

  Believe me, that’s the very least it’s capable of. She chuckled.

  Then humor me and don’t take your eyes off it. Drop it if it starts to lash out. I turned to Whip’s team and yelled, “Let’s move!”

  We headed out into the yard and rejoiced at the sight of the Morts, who had been ripped to shreds by Layen’s spell. The warriors of the Waste were no more solid than the walls of my house. One of the Sdisian’s servants had survived more or less intact, but he’d been crushed by a beam. And even he looked as if he’d been chewed up.

  The house was gone, as was the hedge. While my companions coughed, spat, wiped their eyes and cursed, I peeked out into the street and let out a dazed whistle. Pine planking and logs were strewn about the entire neighborhood. The cottages of our closest neighbors had also suffered greatly from the blast. There were no people in sight. They were hiding under their beds and in their cellars. You wouldn’t be able to drag them out for a week. Well, that was to the good; there’d be less hassle with no one crawling around underfoot. I pulled my axe from the body of the Mort I’d slain.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Layen as she walked up to me.

  “Yes. It’s just not every day that you see the roof of your house learn to fly.” My smile came out crooked. “As it turns out, I know very little about your talents.”

  “Fortunately, I didn’t have the need to demonstrate them before,” she replied a bit too casually. “Let’s go. The khilss sucks out magic. I don’t have enough for long.”

  I didn’t immediately realize that she was speaking about the necromancer’s staff. I think it’s likely that if you gave that thing free rein, it would suck out not just your magic, but your soul as well.

  “We’ll talk later,” I agreed.

  My troops looked like they’d spent the better part of the past year crawling around a badger’s tunnel. They were as filthy as Blazogs in a swamp. And as enraged as Nirits after an offense to their queen. Midge was cursing a blue streak, not even pausing for breath. Whip was still coughing and looking in all directions with streaming eyes. Bamut was the only one who was not wasting any time. He held his crossbow at the ready, and was intently watching the street on the chance that someone might wa
nt to come and find out what had happened here.

  Shen sneezed loudly, dropped the oven fork, and walked over the body of a Mort. He picked its skeem up off the ground. Well, I hope the kid knows some other way to make a living besides healing. Midge, who had probably exhausted his supply of words and phrases, stopped swearing.

  “Damn it.… Are we sticking around here for long?” snapped Bamut nervously.

  He got there just before me. I wanted to ask the same thing.

  “Don’t yell,” wheezed Whip, and he spat. “We’re leaving now.”

  * * *

  “No, did you see that! Did you?” Luk was choking on his own words from agitation. “Wow! What could blow a house to bits like that?”

  “I don’t know.” Ga-Nor was dismally watching the dust settle.

  Nabatorians were scurrying about on the far side of the river.

  “I’d bet my eyeteeth that this is the work of the necromancer’s hands,” the guard continued. “Someone displeased him and so he went into a rage. All Sdisians are deranged, they rub shoulders with the dead, screw a toad! Oh, I just know the bastard’s not going to calm down. He’s going to go through the village, smashing everything in his path. He’ll even get to us eventually.”

  The northerner stretched so strenuously that his joints cracked and, springing lightly to his feet, he began to pack their things into the bag.

  “What are you doing?” asked the guard, taken aback.

  “Can you really not see? The Nabatorians are running around like lice on a flaming head; there’s no way they’ll get us now. I’m not joking. If we leave quickly, the patrols won’t pay any attention to us. We’re leaving by the forest.”

  “Sure, and we’ll turn into old men by the time we get through that thicket to Al’sgara,” Luk replied bleakly. He was not at all tempted by the impending journey. “Perhaps there is another way.”

  “Of course there is. It’s right over there. Over the bridge and then to the Sdisian’s house for dinner. He’ll be glad to meet you,” said the Son of the Snow Leopard sarcastically. “Don’t think about what’s in store for us. If we’re lucky enough to break through, we can try to go out onto the main highway and continue our journey like normal people.”