Complete Magic Lands Books 1 & 2 Omnibus

by William Robert Stanek

  “It’s time,” Tall told Lucky. He slipped a half pod, full of seeds, into his mouth as the two started out at a jog. His brood was closer. He felt them, but there was something strange about how distant they remained. It was as if they were separated from him by unseen voids.

  The ground sloped up. He didn’t like this. He wanted to be low, like in his lowland home, where his enemies couldn’t see him from a distance. He had no choice but to keep going.

  Trekking through the hills made him think of the wizard’s mountain. In his paintings he’d always drawn Ray and the wizard battling on the mountain, but now he saw himself added to those frozen moments. It was almost as if he’d drawn himself into the scenes—and perhaps he had by living when he should have died.

  It was late afternoon by the time his angular path intersected with the north road. Adalayia was a dot in the distance behind him. In the shadow of a thicket, he paused, panting as he looked to Lucky. His pack and staff weren’t that heavy, but carrying them all day must have been tiring because Lucky looked tired and his leg muscles glistened with sweat. The day was proving to be a hot one. He fed Lucky fruit and roots. He ate the same, added pod seeds, while he surveyed the road.

  The road was deserted, as it had been since morning. Something wasn’t right about that. Deanna said guards fought over north gate postings. That it was prestigious. But what prestige was there in watching a deserted road?

  He crossed the road with Lucky, headed directly east for a time. There was a dip ahead that he thought might hide a water flow.

  His fingers scraped at his ribs. The pain was gone, mostly. The healing orb, from his pocket, turned in his hand as he studied it. He wondered about Deanna. Had Healer Holt discovered what she’d done? Had Lady Hravic given her another reminding?

  All of a sudden, he was overwhelmed by the thought that Deanna had received more than a reminding, that she’d been beaten to death. Her death, in his mind, became real. He saw her white, being put into a wooden box. No longer here. He tried hard to remember her alive, but he couldn’t. All he could see was her death.

  Maybe it was better if she were gone. They’d have to find someone else to give their reminding to, then. People like that always did, he knew. Old Rud had been like that, until the council drove him out of the village and left him where he could never hurt anyone again.

  No, not her, Tall told himself. He forced himself to think of her as living. He painted over the canvas of her death in his mind, inserted a picture of her very much alive, breathing and laughing and playfully dancing. No doubt it was the seed taking over, but he couldn’t help it, no more than he could now separate the real from the unreal.

  As he ran faster and faster, he had an awful thought. The void ahead. The one he thought must hide a water flow. What if it was dry? That would almost guarantee his own death. He had never been so long without water. The juice of the fruit helped, but what his dry throat needed was water. He didn’t doubt that Lucky needed water as well.

  Twilight was closing in. He was glad for the concealment the growing darkness offered. He wasn’t headed uphill anymore so much as he was trekking across hillsides. The void was there, he knew, but he couldn’t always see it. He was hungry, too, but he knew how to go without and did, pressing on.

  In another hour, it was clear he wasn’t going to reach the void that day. He had to find a place to camp. Night creatures were coming out. He heard their strange howls and hoots and wondered if the stinging would protect him. Certainly it would mask his scent, but would it be enough if they came for him?

  Soon after, he discovered the stone land had a kind of buzzer. They were tiny, miniscule, but their bite stung well enough. He found a hollow in a fold of trees, hoped he’d traveled far enough away from the city and the road. He didn’t see sign that it was occupied.

  Before settling in, he spread a circle of stinging. He arranged his pack so it would be behind his head, shared and ate some of the goods from Deanna. Beans with green pods and thin orange roots that were tasty but chewy. These were better than the fruits he and Lucky had finished off earlier. As a precaution, he laid his staff beside him and then held it in both hands before leaning back. Lucky was behind him, grazing now, but within the fold of trees.

  Night arrived. His thoughts swirled. Through the branches he could see the stars, and they looked the same as those at home. He knew he must try to rest. It seemed sleep was all he had been doing lately, but it also was all he could think about. Slowly, he let his muscles relax. His eyes closed. His last thought was that he hoped Lucky would be okay.

  Sudden movement awoke him. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour or two. The hollow helped him feel the vibrations of the otherwise still land. The back and forth turning motions were unmistakable. Something large made its way nearer. His instinct wasn’t to flee but to stand and fight. Then he wondered whether the hollow was the creature’s home.

  Bulls and slithers would defend their homes to the death. This creature might as well. Pack in one hand, staff in the other, Tall scrambled up and out of the hollow. Lucky nickered, clearly as a warning, but it also helped Tall locate the horse. He stroked the horse’s mane. With a gentle, soft voice, he said, “North now. We’ll head toward the dip at first light.”

  As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake. The thing that had been coming on was just beyond the edge of the tree line. It was some sort of contraption. Not much like a pushcart really, although it had wheels like one. Something was powering the cart, for it surely wasn’t moving on its own, but he couldn’t see what.

  He stood rock still, afraid to breathe. Were the cart’s owners looking for him? It seemed they were; he heard footsteps. One of them circled around the cart to the other as the other walked toward Tall’s hiding place. Tall closed his eyes, became a shadow within the shadows. He saw with his ears what his eyes couldn’t have seen if they’d’ve wanted to.

  “Far enough?” one asked. The other answered, “I think so.” The voices were those of adults, but not elders. The first speaker was a man. The second, a woman. The man said, “Good. We’ve little enough.”

  Tall heard the man stalking closer. He was picking up something, fallen branches by the sound of it. The woman was busy clanging and banging things.

  A thump followed by the patter of feet surprised Tall. These were the soft sounds of a third person. Light or fairly small, and not at all like the rather large woman or the heavy man. Tall’s heart beat so fast in his ears he wondered that the strangers couldn’t hear it.

  “No sign all day,” the man said. “Dead, likely.”

  “Happens easily enough out here, but not to this one,” the woman said from behind the cart. From her commanding tone, Tall knew she was in charge. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”

  This was addressed to the newcomer, Tall knew, and the response was: “No, not to this one.” The voice was surprisingly close, and Tall almost fell over. The voice was Deanna’s. He risked showing the white’s of his eyes to confirm it.

  “I don’t understand why north and not west,” the woman protested. “You warned clear enough about the Wizard’s Guard.”

  “He’s north and not west because he doesn’t fear the Wizard or the Guard,” Deanna said.

  The man spat something he’d been chewing. Being close enough to smell the stink of it unnerved Tall. Then the man said, “The fool should be terrified.” Tall was.

  Something was glowing. The pulse of it was almost hypnotic. At first Tall thought the woman had started a fire, but then he saw the faint glow was coming from his pocket and not from the clearing. It was the orb. The orb was blinking and he cupped it in his hands to block the light. What was more, Tall saw a similar glow through the trees. Only this glow was in Deanna’s outstretched hand. How serene her expression as it was reflected in the unnerving, intermittent pulsing.

  “What of my sister?” Deanna asked. Tall could have sworn that Deanna was looking straight at him when she said those words. He saw
the blue of her eyes clear enough, but it was likely she didn’t see him, as his dark complexion helped ensure he was but a shadow within the shadows to the untrained eye. Still, he dared not move until she turned away.

  The woman said, “Our bargain will be held. You’ve my word.”

  “Very well,” Deanna said. “He lives. He’s close, but out of reach for now.”

  “You know this for certain?” The woman asked, her voice rising at the end.

  Tall eased down, reached for his pack and staff as Deanna turned to the woman. “I do,” she said.

  “Then you were able to consummate the bond?”

  Deanna smirked. “Indeed.”

  The woman backhanded Deanna so hard she fell to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  Deanna looked up from her knees, a hand held to her bloody lip. “I’m telling you now, Lady Hravic. I only just became certain. We needed to be closer and you drained me earlier before I could try.”

  The woman grabbed the orb from Deanna’s other hand. The orb went dead, lifeless, at her touch. “And this, this told you?”

  “It did,” Deanna said, snatching the orb back. Her expression said she expected to be struck for this. The woman walked away in a huff instead, muttering to herself.

  Tall was about to turn and leave, when Deanna looked directly toward him again. He was certain she couldn’t see him, but somehow she must have felt him. Perhaps she knew only his general direction and that he was out there somewhere. Then she did something that took the breath from his lips. She mouthed a warning.

  Chapter 13: The Stone Desert

  “Move,” Tall told himself. He swallowed the last of the orange root, shouldered his pack, slid out of the foliage, and into the grassy field. Lucky was to his right. The horse had quite the appetite and supplies were going fast. The Lady Hravic, Deanna, and the man were far behind, but alarms still sounded in his mind. If they were hunting him, others might be as well.

  He proceeded cautiously. Meager starlight helped him pick his path to the next tree line. As he hiked along, he was certain he was getting closer to his brood. They seemed to move when he moved. Perhaps they sensed him and followed. Lucky may have sensed the closeness of his mother, Tall suspected, for the horse was unusually calm. Tall’d seen Lucky like this only once before: when the horse faced the colossus from the depths. What to make of it all? Had Deanna showed him she was an ally? He felt certain that she had.

  Certainly, Lady Hravic coerced Deanna’s actions. Or had she? Maybe Deanna’s concern was only for the bargain they’d reached and the sister she asked after. He moved from the trees to another field. There were no more hills, as the land had leveled out about an hour back. What was ahead in the distance he couldn’t tell, though the dawn light came soon enough to reveal all.

  The sun rose as he trekked through a shrub forest. Lucky carried his pack and staff because it was tough going otherwise. He was closer to the north road than he liked being, but he wanted to know when travelers passed and this was the best way. Besides, the bramble patches scattered here and there would make it difficult for anyone on the road to get to him quickly. He nibbled dark root and bitter sweet, gave some to Lucky. The roots did nothing for their thirst and little enough for their hunger. It was about all they had left, though.

  A berry find seemed a gift. There was no animal sign to indicate the berries were edible, however. As the day wore on, he worried more and more about finding water and less and less about those traveling the road. Even Lady Hravic with her wheeled contraption was hours behind him. He’d been on the move almost since awaking. He and Lucky rested twice, but only for a short while.

  A burning sensation as he urinated was the first sign of real trouble. The Inland had plenty of water. Not all of it was drinkable, though, and there were plenty of wide spreads without drinkable water. In these places one traveled with water sacks or not at all. Why couldn’t Deanna have given him a water sack? Certainly it would have fit in his pack.

  By late afternoon the grasses and shrub trees were far behind, and Tall found himself in an arid land dominated by outcroppings of rocks and spiny leafless plants. His lips were dry and the need to find water was the only thing driving his feet onward. There was no jog or run left in him. He was down to a walk. It was the best he could manage.

  Lucky wasn’t himself. The horse plodded on, but often had to be coaxed. The connection between them was worn and thin. It was almost as if Lucky wanted to break away and retreat back the way they’d come. Tall knew they must continue north. Ray was north, and Ray was the hope of his people. Tall had the nagging sense that water was there, just ahead, and if he found it, he would find his brood.

  Exhausted, his body aching, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He chewed light root, tried to force it down, but there wasn’t enough spittle in his dry mouth. He ended up choking and heaving, but there wasn’t anything for him to spew up. Lucky didn’t even bother trying to chew the root. The horse let anything Tall tried to feed him drop to the ground.

  He was stumbling, nearly falling down, when night arrived. He bedded down with Lucky in a notched recess. The outcropping of rocks provided just enough cover to be protected on three sides. He used what little light was left to go through the goods in his pack one more time. He separated the edible from the inedible. In the food pile, there were a few beans with the green pod, several broken pieces of orange root, and dark root. The not-food pile contained scatter bush pods, spike bush thorns, stinging, and gritty.

  Morning didn’t bring the clarity he hoped for. Instead, he felt as if he’d never slept. He could barely think. He had trouble shouldering his pack and had to use his staff to help him walk. He offered the orange roots to Lucky, as he tried to choke down the beans. Lucky didn’t want to move until he was struck on the flank. It was something Tall regretted immediately, but there seemed no other way. Tall told himself that he’d do the same if Lucky was a person. The difference between life and death at this moment was movement. Lucky needed to move, like Tall needed to move.

  Whenever he stumbled and fell, disillusion was the thing that stirred him. Deanna had to have known that without water in this place he was as good as dead, and yet she’d not given him one drop. He hated her for doing this to him. Why had she even bothered to help him? Was it so he could die this horrible, slow death? Did she want him to suffer?

  Then he realized something was terribly wrong. Lucky was stock-still, and this sudden stillness brought focus. He was an easy a target out in the open, fumbling around without care. Even Lady Hravic could finish what remained of him and she could do it with his own staff. He’d not the strength left to fend her off.

  But Lucky was motionless for another reason. Tall heard that reason: a rattling almost like a slither’s warning, soft and low. He had only enough time to lift his staff and bring it across in front of him. It was enough, though, and he caught the tiny slither as it struck, flinging it to the side. Another reason to hate the still land, he told himself.

  His thoughts turned inward. He started to think of Ellie, but the images that came to him were of Dent and Marta, his father and mother. It’s likely they’ve given him up for lost, unless the smoot had told them otherwise. For their sake, he hoped the smoot hadn’t intervened. Ray’s mother looked each morning and night for the return of her son, refusing to wear the black even when Ray’s father had. That wasn’t the way he wanted his mother to spend her days.

  By afternoon, only pod seed kept him going. He’d taken so much of it that he walked with a foot in two worlds and was unable to separate the real from the unreal. Shadows circled round him in both worlds. One of these shadows was Lucky, only barely there now. Some were creatures of the netherworld, feeding on his warmth. Others guided him.

  He saw none of this, knew not the direction he walked in, for he’d forgotten all else and remembered only that he must pick up his feet and put them down. Sometimes he forgot even that, but something would nudge him
or help him up after stumbling, and he’d continue on.

  Hands, unmistakably, were on him now. They were holding him, pushing him down. He heard things, voices, he realized. He saw fire. It danced before his eyes. He tried to reach out to it, but tumbled onto his side. Fears that should have flooded his mind didn’t. He should’ve been worried that the rough hands belonged to Lady Hravic’s man, instead he crawled and dragged himself toward the light.

  Something pressed into his hands. His hands were raised to his lips. He choked, sputtered, and spat. His throat was on fire. He screamed, or at least tried. What came out was a squeal.

  More roughly, more firmly, something pressed into his hands. His hands were raised. His lips felt the cool, slipperiness. He thought to himself how much he loved water. How he could swim and play in it. How it felt when it poured from the heavens. He wanted to gulp it down. That only made him choke and sputter, so he forced himself to sip.