The Way of the Black Beast

by Stuart Jaffe

  Facts not fancies.

  The only fact she had regarding Tommy — he wasn't at the dock. But her instincts told her that if he was alive, Jarik and Callib had him.

  He is alive, she told herself, because the thought felt both right and necessary. Without it, no matter how angry she could be, she never would have stood again.

  But she was standing. Angry, cold, even a bit dead inside, but standing nonetheless.

  "We're going," Malja said, firm and strong. The others straightened and assembled. "Cole, you lead us to those bastard magicians. Mess it up in any way, I'll cut off your head. Anything gets in our way, it dies. This madness they brought upon me is going to end."

  Wiping her eyes, Tumus said, "I wish to accompany you. I can help."

  "No."

  "Please. All I've known here is gone."

  "I don't care."

  "Let me help you. For Tommy. For what they did to him."

  Viper flashed out and hooked Tumus in the back. Through gritted teeth, Malja said, "You did this to him. I charged you to protect that boy. You brought him here, to Barris Mont, knowing I didn't want that. The only reason I don't kill you now is because I think you'll suffer more living with your guilt."

  She released Tumus. The Chi-Chun woman dropped to her knees and new tears bellowed out.

  "We're leaving now," Malja said, turning away from Tumus. Cole cast a pitiful look at Tumus before heading toward the mountains and the City of Ashes. Malja felt no pity. Only one thought echoed in her head — I've got a promise to keep.

  * * * *

  Malja picked up the trail with ease — a wide swath had been cut through the trees and brush. Jarik and Callib made no attempt to hide.

  Cole did better than Malja had expected. Hiking long hours with little break can be hard on the most seasoned soldiers. But Cole never quit and never complained. Skvalan held his own. Malja's expectations for him were high — after all, he had spent his days crossing the Yad over and over. He should be strong.

  She spoke little during the day, letting the physical exertion work away the rest of her anguish.

  That night, they circled their campfire and ate the stringy but nutritious meat of a dollad. Skvalan had caught the tunneler right before it burrowed to its freedom. Whenever he met Malja's eyes he raised the leg bone in his hand. She nodded the first few times, but his pride had become annoying. She concentrated on eating to avoid his eyes.

  "I didn't see any signs of Tommy," she said. She didn't mean to say it out loud, but once started, she had difficulty stopping. "If they had taken him, he would've tried something to get my attention — drop something or leave a marker of some kind."

  Cole and Skvalan exchanged looks of concern. Malja opened her mouth, ready to babble more, when a thought struck hard enough to make her smile. "If he's not with them, then he's out there somewhere. He might be just fine."

  Cole touched Malja's knee. "Dear, you've suffered a loss. We understand that. If you want to turn back, it's okay. We can find some other way."

  Malja's eyes flared up. "We're not going back. Tommy is not dead. I know it."

  "All I'm trying to say is—"

  "You just want out. Guess what Miss Watts? Everybody wants out. Nobody's ever happy with the life they were given. But some of us learn to live with it, to take control of it, and make the best of it we can. Others — they just want to cry over their wounds and go back."

  Cole's face hardened. "Don't you dare lecture me, little thing." She threw her bone in the fire and plopped down next to Skvalan. "I may not have the Bluesmen under my control, but don't think I'm under yours. I have knowledge to keep me alive."

  "Push me far enough, and I'll kill you anyway. I can search the City of Ashes without you. May take the rest of my life, but I'd do it."

  "I believe you would. But I know more than just where to find Jarik and Callib. I know all about Barris Mont and I know the core truths of the Devastation. And I know where you come from. I've even seen your mother."

  Malja shot forward, kicking through the campfire and releasing Viper in swift motions. Sparks lit up the darkness and reflected off Viper's blade as bright as the blaze in her eyes. Before Cole could react, Malja had Viper pressed against her quivering neck, a slick, trickle of blood marking the skin. Skvalan watched without comment and only mild interest.

  "You'd better start sharing that knowledge now," Malja said.

  "If I tell you, you might kill me."

  "If you don't, I'll definitely kill you."

  With her hands raised in surrender, Cole pulled back from Viper and used her worn smile. "Okay. You've convinced me." Malja held still a fraction longer while Skvalan reset the campfire. With her jaw jutting in a dare, she backed off two small steps. Despite her hands shaking, Cole continued, "You're not from here. Not this place. You were born in another world."

  The words froze between them. Malja's mind pulsed with memories of the other world she had seen — the green séance table, the oddities outside the window, the people staring at her. "That was home?"

  "No," Cole said, lowering her voice and her hands. "The world the Bluesmen talk with is not your world."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I was there when Jarik and Callib got you. I saw them create a portal — just the two of them — and I watched you fall into our world. That world you came from — it's absolutely incredible."

  Malja's mouth tasted stale and her lungs constricted. Gregor had said that someday she would learn the truth — no, that she would have the chance to learn the truth. "The important question," he said, "is do you really want to know?" Of course she wanted to know. But he only smiled as he served up breakfast and said, "Sometimes the truth is a heavier burden than the mystery."

  Although Skvalan had built a hefty blaze, Malja could not escape the cold pressing in. "Tell me everything," she said.

  Cole slouched as if the weight of sadness surrounding them had been placed solely upon her. "I told you magic caused the Devastation — the magic to create a portal. There's more. See, Barris Mont was alive back then."

  "I know. He showed me. He had once been human."

  "Perhaps. I wasn't there. But human or not, Barris planted the seed in all those foolish magicians' heads. Made them think they were better than all the rest. He knew of the other worlds, or at least he suspected, and he persuaded these fools to play with some very hot fire."

  "Barris caused the Devastation?"

  "Partly, yes. And you would think that erasing three-quarters of the world would give a person pause, but not Barris. He approached it like an equation that needed to be solved. He had no luck. Until one day, he met two brothers who were also budding magicians."

  "He gave Jarik and Callib their powers?"

  "He unlocked their powers. They had them from the start. But for all his ability to look inside a person's mind, that big fool had blinded himself to what Jarik and Callib truly were. Barris wanted to be right. He needed to be; otherwise, he had nothing to show for all the death he caused."

  The campfire popped and the tower of wood fell apart on one side. Malja wondered how much more she could take before she, too, crumbled apart. "So, Jarik and Callib are trying to open a portal. But you've already done that."

  "Patience, now. What you saw with the Bluesmen was nothing. Your fathers had accomplished that much long ago. They've been able to open portals to hundreds of worlds. What they can't do is travel to them. We all burn up if we touch the magic. Just like Fawbry."

  Malja's stomach lurched. "But I don't."

  Cole tilted her head like a big sister revealing the truth about boys. "No, you don't. Oh, my dear, sweet little Malja, life can be so unfair. Your fathers opened world after world, trying to unlock their secrets. They found many worlds with no magic at all — just machines. So they came to me. They wanted me to build many things — machines to stabilize the portals, machines to boost their magic, machines to test the portals, all kinds of things."

  "And you d
id this, of course."

  "Jarik and Callib aren't the types that really offer much choice, now are they?"

  "I suppose not."

  "Well, there it is. I built what I could, but we still couldn't get through the portals. One morning, they opened a portal, and it must have materialized right beneath your mother because she just fell into our world."

  "Fell?"

  "We all stood there, just stuck in shock. We'd never had anything like that happen before. She had a baby in her arms — you. And she clutched you tightly like she knew what was about to happen. She stared at us with the widest eyes I've ever seen. Scared me into praying to the brother gods for a moment."

  "What did she say? What did she look like?"

  "She looked a lot like you — long, dark hair, strong face. If not for the fear in her eyes, she'd have been a striking woman. She spoke a lot, but it wasn't in any language I ever heard. Callib, though, he reacted like she had come to cause another Devastation. He saw something in that portal, and it scared him something awful. He shut down the machines and yelled out his magic. The portal sealed and sucked your mother back into it in the process. You, however, remained."

  "She let me go?"

  "No. The force of the portal stripped you from her arms. She screamed as it brought her back in. Most heart-wrenching thing I ever heard in my life. Callib stared at you like you were the spawn of evil. He wanted to destroy you. Dissect you, too, no doubt. But Jarik picked you up, and that was that."

  "Then why did they get rid of me? If I'm the only one who can pass through the portal, if Jarik saved me, if any of what you're saying is true, then why toss me into the woods?"

  Cole stifled a yawn. "Didn't know what they had, did they? I'm sure they wish they could take it all back just so they could use you. Now, I've told you enough."

  "You sit there and tell me everything."

  "You going to kill me? Then who'll tell you the rest? I gave you some of it, but I still have a few bits left and those'll keep me alive, thank you. So, now, I'm going to sleep. We've got a lot of hiking to do tomorrow."

  Malja kicked her heel into the dirt and swore. As Cole rested her head on the ground, Malja joined Skvalan in squinting at the fire. She tried to stay angry at Cole, but the woman had given her more information than she ever had before. She saw her mother reaching for her like the campfire flames straining toward the night sky. Sleep would be a long time in coming.

  * * * *

  The rain began before sunrise — heavy, thick drops at first followed by drizzle, then heavy again. The ground became mush in seconds. Malja, Cole, and Skvalan hiked through the damp forest and over muddy hills, keeping their heads down and saying little. Being Muyaza, Skvalan cringed under the cold droplets, but Malja refused to baby him, and she suspected he would resent such help anyway. Skvalan would push through his cultural issue, if for no other reason than to prove his toughness and his worth to the group.

  Malja required no proof from either Skvalan or Cole. Hiking mile after mile in chilling rain without the aid of horses proved enough. She only wished they could move faster. Jarik and Callib had hours on them, and the bastards could float over obstacles that slowed Malja's progress. She didn't fear losing them — with Cole's help, she would find them. But with the frame in their possession, Malja feared they'd have too much time to cast their spells.

  Cole stopped. Massaging her hip, she said, "My, my, my. Take a look at that."

  Malja trudged back and followed Cole's gaze. In the distance, nestled discretely behind a wall of oak, stood the ruins of an old mansion. Vines had engulfed much of its front helping obscure it from notice even more.

  "We should keep moving," Malja said.

  "Hold on. There might be supplies in there. At the least, we could get dry, build a fire, get warm."

  "We're already too far behind," she said, seeing Skvalan's longing. "Stopping here will only make it worse."

  "Maybe so, maybe not. Who can really know? But I know this — if I don't get a tiny bit of comfort, I won't be worth a thing in another mile."

  Malja considered leaving Cole behind. She could find the City of Ashes on her own. Two powerful magicians couldn't be that difficult to locate — people talk, and Jarik and Callib were probably well-known in the city. She could do it. It would take longer, that's all. She took several steps up the path. A lot longer.

  She kicked the muddy ground. "We'll rest for an hour, then it's back on the hike."

  Cole had the sense to stay quiet.

  Chapter 20

  Skvalan broke apart another hand-crafted chair to feed the fire. They were in the foyer — a massive room of marble columns, curving stairs, and stained-glass. Two statues guarded the front door — the Prophet Galot on the left, and the magician Moonlo on the right. Moonlo looked gaunt compared to the well-fed image of Galot, but his stern expression spoke to the firm will power and unending faith that helped him write and spread the Book of Kryssta.

  "Guess they couldn't make up their minds," Cole said.

  "What?" Malja asked. Cole had been flitting about the mansion, commenting on its fine architecture and relatively good condition since they had arrived. Malja chose to ignore her as much as possible.

  "The owners," Cole said. "Not very religious, I guess. Or maybe too religious."

  "Sit down already. You're the one who said you needed rest."

  "I know, but this place is amazing. People have probably walked by for a hundred years and never knew it was nestled back here like a buried treasure. You understand that? It's practically untouched."

  "That's right. So we've got chairs to burn."

  Skvalan tossed the last bits of wood into the fire and settled with his back against a thick column. Cole rolled her eyes. "Well," she said, drawing out the word like a disapproving parent, "the two of you may have no appreciation for the riches to be found here, but I do. Enjoy the fire. I promise to return for some rest before we go, but first I've got to see what else I can find."

  "No, Cole, you stay," Malja said, but Cole continued to rummage through a pile of discarded things in one corner. "We are too close to the enemy." Cole moved on to a small wooden desk with numerous drawers. "This is not the time for scavenging."

  "Praise Kryssta and Korstra and whoever else you fancy, look what I found." From the bottom drawer, she pulled out two bottles of wine. The labels were torn and faded but the distinctive pyramid-shaped bottle meant they were Luntland — among the finest wineries before the Devastation. So fine that people still knew the name. "Here's one bottle for you and one for me. Now I'm off to check the rest of the house." With a triumphant gait, Cole sped up the stairs.

  Malja and Skvalan wasted no time. A clean strike from Viper cut open the bottle. Skvalan found a light, metal bowl in the trash pile. Malja raised her first toast to Cole — an undamaged bowl like this was rare. If she had a horse, Malja would have loaded it with everything she could find. Instead, she and Skvalan emptied the bottle by the bowlful.

  "You don't talk much," Malja said, resting her woozy head and watching the fire's smoke weave up to the ceiling three floors above. Didn't mean to drink so fast.

  "No speak well."

  "That's okay. I'm comfortable around quiet ones."

  Silence settled between them. Sounds of Cole bumping through the house mixed with the drumming rain like the beginning beat of Cole's music magic, but between Malja and Skvalan — silence. Until Skvalan sniffed loudly and said, "We go soon."

  Malja opened her eyes (she hadn't realized she drifted off). "I know. I want to go, too. But I'm starting to think Cole is right. I mean, obviously, we don't have to track them. Cole knows exactly where they're going. And there's no way for us to catch them — we're too slow on foot. So, might as well rest and do the best we can tomorrow."

  Skvalan placed his small pack under his head. "No good."

  "I know no good. That's because I'm lying. I mean all I just said is true, but I'm not telling it all. See, I don't care if Jarik and Callib
open another world. I don't even care if they destroy this one. I just want Tommy back. That's all. I should never have left him. That's why I've kept pushing us so hard. And now maybe Cole's right. She won't say it out loud, but maybe she's right. Maybe Tommy's in the middle of Dead Lake. Maybe he's dead."

  Skvalan opened his bag and pulled out his wife's braided hair. "Wife dead. I see. Tommy no see. Tommy no dead."

  "Don't give up, eh? Don't worry. I'm drunk and I'm babbling. Trying to convince myself. Prepare. Gregor always told me to prepare for the worst, because then you won't be disappointed. Trouble with that is you can end up lying to yourself. Jarik and Callib — I know them. I try to tell myself they were something else, but they're not. They're evil. And they raised me, influenced me for ten years. Maybe that makes me evil, too. Can a person overcome that? I know Callib wants to change everything, run the world his way. But he'll destroy everything good. Then they'll be nothing left for Tommy. So, I guess I do care if they cause another Devastation. That's something, right?" The fire crackled and Malja watched the sparks drift upward. "I do care."

  Skvalan stroked the braided hair with his thumb.

  "I've drunk too much. Don't listen to me. I'm just tired and angry and confused. And drunk."

  Malja closed her eyes and felt her body drift with the sparks and sweet-smelling smoke. Things had been simpler long ago. She woke each morning with one easy task — hunt for food. After that, the day was hers. If she could just let go of all her rage, just forget Jarik and Callib — they never existed. Only Gregor. He was her father.

  But every time she tried, reality reared in her mind. Now she saw her mother reaching out for her. Now she saw Jarik taking her away. And now that bastard had taken Tommy. He must have. Any other scenario would have left a body or blood or some evidence. To leave nothing at all but scorch marks — that's the work of magic.