Haven Magic

by B. V. Larson

  In the center of town, the Wild Hunt met with the Rainbow. Stooping to smite the galloping horsemen, the creature blasted craters in the earth and muck of the merling town. The largest lodge in the town was splattered with flying mud and wet burning sticks. Clouds of white smoke and steam rose from the scene, but Brand could make out the relatively tiny forms of the huntsmen, slashing and stabbing at the shimmering stuff of the Rainbow’s legs. Hunks of flashing intangible flesh were cut from the creature’s legs. The gauzy material lay steaming and shimmering in the mud, the chasing colors of it dying slowly, dimming like a guttering lamp that drinks and burns the last of its oil.

  Brand was close now, so close that one of the coursers galloped past him, and could easily have struck him down from behind. But the huntsman was clearly intent on charging the Rainbow’s legs. Shrieking a weird, inhuman battle cry, it thrust its boarspear into the mass of the leg. A swinging fist swooped low as the huntsman passed and swept the rider from his mount with an explosive blow. Brand watched as the rider melted, still shrieking, into the earth. The undying horse, now riderless, took a few trotting steps before it too, stumbled on brittle legs and turned into a heap of dust on the wet earth. Brand vowed silently to never doubt the truth of Gudrin’s stories again, should he be so fortunate as to hear another.

  Brand soon was near enough to the Rainbow to make out the tiny figure that stood beneath it. Between the vast spread of its shimmering legs, Dando stood, working his limbs even as the Rainbow itself did. It was as if the Rainbow were a great puppet and Dando its puppeteer.

  Then Brand saw the Jewel in the amulet that Dando bore on his breast and which flashed rhythmically, perhaps with the beat of the Wee One’s heart. As if in response to the sight of its sibling, the axe squirmed in his knapsack.

  Take it.

  Brand licked his lips. Abruptly, it seemed to him that the rest of the battle quieted and dimmed. Ghost-like, the huntsmen continued to circle and cut at the legs. The Rainbow twisted and stooped, swinging its great limbs at them. Brand saw all this only as a set of flickering, dream-like images. Nothing other than the throbbing light of Lavatis mattered.

  Cut the Rainbow’s feet from under it and take the Jewel.

  Brand’s hand moved up of its own accord to hover over the haft of the axe. He paused there, trembling.

  “Hold it, Brand,” said a voice in his ear.

  Startled, he twisted around. A leering face met his eyes, and he wanted to strike it, but soon recognition set in.

  “Myrrdin?” he asked. Then he felt a strong hand clasping his wrist. Twisting the other way, he was shocked again. “Corbin?”

  They paused only to smile before urging him to take cover with them behind the blasted ruins of a great merling hall. Modi was there too, and gave a rare slow smile at Brand’s gaping mouth.

  “How did you escape?” asked Brand.

  “How did you find us?” asked Corbin in amusement.

  “I followed the Rainbow,” said Brand with a grin. He pointed up at the monster that all of them gazed at.

  “Shhhh!” admonished Myrrdin. “If you can contain yourselves, we might yet live through this day! Watch the waters at our backs!”

  Even as the reunited party hunkered down, the merlings finally made a counterattack against these invaders of their town. A jostling, croaking horde of them rose up from the waters of the nearby ponds and charged into the whirling melee. They fought bravely, but most of them were quickly cut down as if out of hand by the huntsmen. A few perished beneath the swinging limbs of the Rainbow. A few managed to thrust their weapons into the Rainbow and once three of them pulled down a huntsman with their barbed cords. Horse and rider melted together into the earth, but the merlings knew this victory only briefly, and were soon routed from the scene. The few that splashed out into the safety of the waters dragged their flopping wounded and dead comrades with them.

  “A brave assault for merlings. It does them credit,” said Myrrdin.

  “Better that they all die so that we’d be free of them,” grunted Modi.

  “Perhaps we should find a way to retire before one side or the other wins this fight,” suggested Corbin. “It seems that there is little we can do.”

  “I could wield the axe,” said Brand. He couldn’t hold back the words. The urge to charge in and face two of Ambros’ siblings in open conflict was all but overwhelming.

  Myrrdin looked at him with great concern. “No, no. You aren’t ready yet. Have you wielded it on your journey here?”

  “Yes, twice,” replied Brand. He eyed the Rainbow speculatively. The axe had great cutting power. A few low sweeps could perhaps sever the monster’s foot. Then finishing it would be easy.

  “Twice!” exclaimed Myrrdin, shocked. “Have you slain with it?”

  “Yes, two merlings.”

  Myrrdin shook his head in amazement. “It is indeed a wonder that you live. You have not yet been attuned to the Jewel fully. To attempt to use it again without proper instruction will almost certainly drive the Jewel feral and leave you dead soon after.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When the wielder of a Jewel isn’t strong enough to tame it, the Jewel takes over, going feral. It performs with mindless aggression in most cases until it destroys its master. Ambros is particularly famous for acts of savagery that eventually kill its champion. But we have no time for this talk now, we must retreat. Where is Telyn?”

  Brand blinked in surprise. He had all but forgotten his beloved. This bothered him, as it showed the intense grip the Jewel had over him. “I—I left her in the hills outside the town—”

  A great crash interrupted him. The merling king’s palace had fallen in upon itself and now burned with great choking clouds of steamy smoke. Flaming sticks and smoldering chunks of earth splashed over the battlefield. Dando was taken by surprise and hurled to the ground. The huntsmen took this opportunity to dash in and hack desperately at the creature’s legs. One of them finally gave way at the ankle and the Rainbow dropped to one knee. It grasped about itself like a fallen man, destroying whatever it touched. A howling sound, like that of a hurricane wind whipping around stone crags, erupted from it. It seemed to go mad then, flailing with its limbs. Grabbing up merlings and burning them with its very touch, it hurled their crushed, smoking bodies far out into the outlying ponds of the town.

  Beneath the monster, Dando struggled up and moved again. A shock ran through the Rainbow. It reached down beneath itself and grabbed up Dando. Brand thought he could hear a tiny shriek of pain, but it might have been the wind. In a long sweep, the arm rose up to the gaping maw. Dando disappeared within it. Brand gave a gasp, wondering what it might be like to tumble down that cavernous, incorporeal throat.

  The Rainbow shuddered again and struggled to rise. Its missing foot made it topple again. Reaching down, it grabbed its lost foot and placed it back onto the end of its leg. The torn, shimmering material of its body flowed together. Making smoothing motions, it melted the leg and foot back together again as if molding clay. In moments the foot was reattached.

  “How does one kill such a thing?” asked Brand in a hushed voice.

  “Elemental spirits can’t really die,” replied Myrrdin. “How can you kill a rain cloud? How do you destroy a gleam of sunlight? It is the same with the Rainbow.”

  “But what will it do now that Dando is dead? Will it carry the Jewel in its belly forever?”

  “No. If Dando dies, the creature will soon lose form.”

  “If?” said Modi with a grunt of amusement. “How can you say if? How could anything live after having been devoured by a monster?”

  Myrrdin shrugged. “I’ve never been in the belly of the Rainbow myself, so I can’t say.”

  “Stranger things have happened while one bears a Jewel,” agreed Gudrin solemnly.

  “Whether Dando is dead or not, it seems clear that the creature no longer has a master, and thus knows not what to do,” added Corbin.

  “Yes, it has gone feral,
” agreed Myrrdin, his face grim.

  There was no doubt of that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Escape

  They watched as the gigantic living rainbow rose up again to its full height. A look of uncomprehending agony remained fixed on its face. It gave off a wailing sound like that of storm winds over sea rocks then set off toward the river. Each tremendous foot swept forward as it picked up speed into an incredible run. Every footfall shook the earth and sent up explosions of sparks, water and mud. The Wild Hunt gave chase, their mounts gliding over the waterways and ponds as if they galloped across hard earth. Herla winded Osang again and its long, clear note rang from the walls and the hills beyond. Brand was reminded of hunters chasing down one of the rare great elk that were sometimes found in the Deepwood.

  “How can they do that?” exclaimed Corbin. “What keeps the Wild Hunt from sinking into the mire as any creature should do?”

  “Osang does,” replied Brand, bringing startled looks from Myrrdin and Gudrin. “Herla wields the Lavender Jewel, which has power over sight, sound and movement.”

  “Well said,” Myrrdin grinned. “You have learned a thing or two since last we talked, Champion.”

  Modi gave a grunt of disgust at the title and began to stump off toward the river. “We’d best be after them,” he said.

  Myrrdin looked after him. “Quite true, but I believe it will take special aid for us to catch them before events have come to a conclusion beyond our control.”

  They all looked at him. He made no further comment, but set off at a loping run toward the river. All of them followed.

  Brand watched as the chase led the huntsman right into the river itself. The Rainbow crashed through the town gates and waded downriver. Only the Wee Folk seemed fleet enough of foot to catch up to the creature. They circled it and even ran ahead of it, playing at death with the great crashing feet. They urged and dared one another to dash across its path even as each tremendous step was taken.

  “Tomkin!” shouted Brand, pointing.

  “Where?” asked Telyn, running alongside him.

  “There, playing tag with the others at the Rainbow’s feet! I —” he faltered. “Telyn! Where did you come from?”

  “Did you think I would let you chase Wee Folk, the Wild Hunt and the marching Rainbow all by yourself?” she laughed.

  Brand grinned. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “What about Tomkin?”

  “I saw him at the Rainbow’s feet. At least, I thought it was him. He was the only one wearing dappled fawnskin rather than a top hat and waistcoat.”

  “But I see several like that,” said Telyn.

  Brand shook his head. “I don’t know then, perhaps I was mistaken.”

  “Or perhaps our little companion is just as big of a traitor as we suspected at first,” said Telyn with uncharacteristic cynicism.

  The group panted as they reached the river’s edge. Myrrdin was already there and was hard at work waving his staff over a large fallen tree that lay half in the river.

  “The creature must have smashed this one down as he passed,” commented Corbin.

  Brand nodded. The tree looked as if it had been struck by lightning and blasted from its roots. The upper part of the tree still looked normal, but near the bottom of the trunk it was twisted black and smoldering. Brand marveled that just a glancing blow could deliver so much destructive force.

  “Watch!” exclaimed Telyn excitedly in Brand’s ear. “Myrrdin is about to work truly powerful magic! I can feel it gathering.”

  Brand felt it too. It was like the coming of a storm or the rising of a fresh breeze on a hot summer’s day.

  “Is this wise, Myrrdin?” asked Gudrin in concern. “If you reveal yourself to Herla now, might he not decide to attack us instead, judging us easier prey than the crazed Rainbow?”

  Myrrdin, intent on his work, made no reply. With a look of fantastic concentration, he drew a line the length of the tree’s trunk with the tip of his staff. He then skipped up to the leafy branches and with a flourish and a great thrust, plunged the staff into the trunk.

  The fallen tree shuddered. Moments later, as they all watched, the line Myrrdin had cut into the trunk widened into a slash, then a gap, then a great hollow. The leaves and branches at the tree’s crown curled up like fingers and wove themselves together to form a green serpentine head.

  “It’s a boat!” cried Telyn with delight. Not hesitating an instant, she clambered up into the hollow, which now bore benches grown over with tree bark. “Come on!” she shouted to the others. “Let’s cast off and chase them!”

  Myrrdin beamed at her proudly, continuing his handiwork. His staff had turned into a mast of sorts now, and he was busy working up this mast a sail of woven green leaves.

  Shaking his great head, Modi put his shoulder to the stern of the odd craft and shoved. Myrrdin and Telyn swayed a bit as the boat shifted.

  Brand and Corbin grinned as they put their shoulders into it. Gudrin joined them and in few moments the craft was afloat on the rising flood of the river. Climbing aboard the marvelous boat with the others, Brand smiled as he watched Telyn all but dance about them. The rain in her face and hair, he reflected, made her all the more beautiful when she was happy.

  “Nothing delights you more than magic, does it?” he asked her when she drifted near, running her hands lightly over the rough bark of the deck and gunwales.

  Still eyeing the craft, she smiled and gave her head a tiny shake. “You do,” she said quietly. She lifted her head up and gave him a tiny kiss.

  Brand decided that, live or die this day, he would remember her kiss to his last moments.

  The sails suddenly caught the wind and tugged. Brand wondered that the breeze should be so strong and steady and going in the right direction. He supposed he should not have wondered about good sailing conditions when sitting in a ship magically formed from a fallen tree.

  The merlings, miserable in their smashed town, watched them leave without molesting them. Brand felt sorry for them, caught up as they were in a conflict which most of them probably had no knowledge of. So many of their homes were smashed and so many of their people dead. He resolved that, should he somehow have a hand in reforging a new Pact with Faerie, the merlings should be part of it. For too long men and merlings had hunted one another in a silent war. Too many babies had been stolen, pelts taken and eggs smashed.

  He turned then to see that Telyn was studying his face.

  “You feel for them, don’t you?” she asked.

  Brand nodded. “I can’t help but think of when I gazed down into one of their homes, about to kill a female and her young. Who was the monster at that moment?”

  Telyn nodded, still looking at him.

  “Any creature that protects its young and builds a town shouldn’t be hunted as an animal,” he said.

  She gave his hand a squeeze, and it felt almost as good as the kiss had.

  “Well, I don’t suppose my opinion counts for much,” he said. “The rest of the River Folk will take some convincing.”

  Telyn gave him another squeeze. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  Sailing out of the ruined town, Brand felt good to be on the water again. A shifting deck under his feet and clean water all around felt like home to him. Fresh rain washed the sweat, grime and trials of the last few days from his face. Soon, however, he began to become alarmed as they picked up speed. The boat’s hull was furling back water like a cast spear.

  “Are we caught in rapids?” he asked Corbin.

  “No, the water is swift and deep, but not so that it could possibly account for this speed,” he replied. “I don’t understand it, but it must be Myrrdin’s doing.”

  They looked to Myrrdin, who stood at the prow, his arms wrapped around his staff-turned-mast and his intent gaze directed ahead.

  “Myrrdin!” cried Brand over the rising winds. “What if we hit something, man! We’ll go over in a thrice!”

  Myrrdin shouted some
thing back, but the wind carried it off.

  Brand climbed past Modi’s bulk. The warrior glared at him, unhappy as usual to be in another damnable boat. He reached up to grasp Myrrdin’s shoulder. During the time it took to traverse the length of the craft their speed had increased nearly two-fold. Looking to the shore, Brand suspected that they moved faster than a horse could gallop.

  “Myrrdin! Have you gone mad, man!” he shouted into his ear.

  Keeping his eyes on the water ahead, Myrrdin simply uncrooked a finger, the rest of which he kept tightly upon his staff, and pointed ahead.

  Brand’s eyes followed the finger and ahead of them he saw the towering form of the Rainbow ahead. They were gaining on it, slowly.

  Brand shook his head and sat back down on the bark-covered benches that had grown so fortuitously for human backsides to sit upon. Normally at home in any craft, he felt out of his league now. He looked over the side and marveled at the pace with which the water was pushed from the tapered prow. Never had he seen a boat move half as fast, excepting perhaps a canoe that fell over a waterfall in the spring floods. He reflected that after the breaking of the Pact magic had become commonplace around him. He wondered if it had always been abundant, but hidden, just beneath the river’s surface or inches beyond the borders of the Haven.

  The chase went on for some time. The Rainbow seemed tireless, as did the huntsmen. Slowly, they did gain. Brand wondered what they would do if they caught up with the hunters. As they drew closer to the fleeing Rainbow, the storm grew worse again. Soon the rainfall was so great that they had to bail to keep the vessel riding lightly on the water’s surface.

  Then, without warning, the Rainbow stumbled and fell. They were not close enough to see why, but now that it had stopped running, they caught up very quickly. In moments the circling horsemen could be seen, then the darting Wee Folk, some of whom had the audacity to take wild leaps over the fallen shimmering form. Although it had fallen, the Rainbow still flailed about at its attackers. Brand saw one of the Wee Folk miscalculate and get caught by a sweeping hand. The tiny figure flew off into the river like a swatted insect. The huntsmen charged in, thrusting home their boarspears and hacking fearlessly with their broadswords. Brand wondered if they had ever faced a larger, more terrifying foe. He shivered to think that perhaps, sometime in their centuries-long existence, they had.