Jinx's Fire

by Sage Blackwood

  They had come down the Troll-way far enough that the ground around them was no longer glass. The forest welcomed Jinx. He felt the Urwald’s lifeforce, strong and whole again, and he felt that the fire inside him was part of it.

  “Here’s the Doorway,” said Elfwyn.

  They stopped.

  “Where?” said Simon.

  “Right here,” said Elfwyn, pointing. “And you have to know—”

  “Don’t tell me how KnIP works,” said Simon. “Just tell me what’s there.”

  “I was trying to,” said Elfwyn. “That big hollow oak near your house.”

  “Right. I see it.” He turned to Jinx. “You made this?”

  “Well, I used a bunch of other people’s knowledge, but yeah.” Jinx watched to see if Simon would at least be impressed by that. Most KnIP users could only use their own knowledge.

  “Hm,” said Simon.

  Simon put a foot into the Doorway, and Jinx grabbed his arm. “Hang on. I have to go through and strengthen the ward first.”

  “You said you did that already.”

  “The ward tunnel,” said Jinx. “It was weak because we didn’t have much power. Just wait a minute.”

  He stepped through, and smelled the rot of the Doorway Oak. He felt the ward tunnel, stretching toward the edge of Simon’s clearing. He could feel how weak it was and he could sense that several holes had been scraped in it now.

  He poured power into it, filled the holes, and strengthened it.

  “Okay, you can come through now,” he called over his shoulder.

  The others joined him, and they walked up the tunnel to the clearing. Reven’s soldiers tried to thrust swords and hands through the holes Jinx had just plugged. There weren’t nearly as many soldiers as before.

  “Where’s Reven?” Jinx asked them. “Or King Raymond, if you’d rather?”

  “He’s got better things to do than hang around watching you,” said one of the soldiers.

  Jinx didn’t like the sound of that.

  He watched Simon as they came into the clearing, which had once been a small green goat pasture and was now all dug up into a patchwork of vegetable gardens. It looked like someone had planted peas and onions already.

  There was a pale orange cloud of dismay from Simon, but all he said was “Hmph.”

  The kitchen was wet with drying laundry and a-squall with babies. People were talking, yelling, quarreling, wheedling, and laughing, but they all stopped when they saw Simon standing in the doorway. Wizards had that effect.

  Cats erupted from hidden places, yowling, and rubbed their heads against Simon’s legs.

  “Are you the big wizard?” said small Silas.

  Simon unhooked a kitten from his leg and nodded.

  “He’s the big wizard,” small Silas reported to everyone.

  Simon looked all around the room. Jinx did too. It seemed to him there were a lot more people in the kitchen than there had ever been before. And he could hear voices in the north tower, too. He looked up. Heads peered down from all along the edge of the loft.

  “Nobody’s gone into the south wing, have they?” said Jinx.

  “Of course not,” said Cottawilda. “Sophie locked it when she left.”

  “What do you mean, when she left?” Simon demanded. “Where is she?”

  “We thought she was with you,” said Jotun.

  Jinx had a sudden feeling of foreboding. “Why would she be with us?”

  “Because she went to meet you, when she looked in that Farseeing Window thing and saw that you were on your way up,” said Cottawilda.

  “When?” Elfwyn demanded.

  “Must’ve been about a week ago,” said Cottawilda.

  Jinx felt rising panic. “Well, she didn’t get there!” He turned to Wendell and Elfwyn. “Did the trolls eat her?”

  “Of course not!” said Elfwyn.

  “Why would there be trolls at the Bonemaster’s house?” asked Cottawilda.

  Jinx looked at Simon. The wizard’s face had gone pale.

  “What are you talking about?” said Jinx.

  “Sophie went to Bonesocket,” said small Silas.

  “She looked in the window thingy and she saw you standing there in that cave, holding that blob of glup,” said Cottawilda. “We all did, actually. And then you looked at those two paths, and you went up the icy one, and she said you must be going to Bonesocket—”

  “What on earth made her think that?” Simon demanded.

  “I don’t know. She looks in books and things,” said Cottawilda.

  “Why would a book tell her what Jinx was going to do?” said Elfwyn.

  “That actually was what I was going to do.” Jinx felt awful. He should have realized Sophie would try to interfere—er, help him.

  “Right,” said Simon. “See you later, then.” He turned back to the door.

  “Wait!” Jinx grabbed Simon’s arm. “You can’t—”

  Simon shook Jinx off. “I most certainly can.” Bright-orange angry lightning bolts leapt around his head.

  Elfwyn jumped in front of him and held her arms out to stop him. “You can’t go off and face the Bonemaster by yourself.”

  “I have done so before,” said Simon.

  “Yes, and look what happened,” said Jinx. “And you can’t face him now, you can’t even do mag—” He caught himself. “Much of anything till you’ve had some rest,” he amended.

  “You’ll go after her, of course,” said Wendell. “Obviously. But you really should have a plan, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll kick his—”

  “Not that kind of plan,” said Elfwyn. “A specific plan. Wendell’s right.”

  The front door opened—nobody bothered to knock anymore. Maud, the nostrilly girl from Blacksmiths’ Clearing, came in. Behind her, Jinx was startled to recognize Elfwyn’s mother, Berga, from Butterwood Clearing, and her husband, Helgur the Barbarian, behind her. Helgur was carrying a baby, and bouncing it up and down in an attempt to stop it from crying.

  “What, more?” said Simon.

  “They’re traitors,” said Jinx, under his breath. “Not the girl, but the other two.”

  Jinx knew what Berga was going to do. She was going to start asking Elfwyn questions, one after another, bang-bang-bang. Elfwyn hated it. He spoke quickly before Berga had a chance. “What are you doing here? Have you got some supplies to sell that the invaders didn’t want to buy? And don’t start asking Elfwyn questions, or I’ll cast a horrible spell on you.”

  Elfwyn looked annoyed. “I can cast my own horrible spells, you know.”

  “They have information,” said Maud.

  “If you want it,” said Helgur, jouncing the baby.

  “Why should we trust you?” Jinx shot back.

  “What’s the information?” said Wendell.

  Berga frowned at him. “Where’s this one from? He talks funny.”

  “King Raymond—Reven, that is—is battling his uncle, King Bluetooth of Keyland, southwest of Blacksmiths’ Clearing,” said Helgur.

  “King Bluetooth’s got two thousand men in the Urwald,” said Berga.

  “They’re at least eighty miles in,” said Helgur. “They haven’t come up to Butterwood, because they don’t know it’s there. They tried to invade a couple of clearings and found them protected by wards, so they probably think all the clearings are like that.”

  The baby let out a howl. Helgur handed it to his wife. “Your friend Reven’s expecting to be joined by King Rufus of Bragwood soon,” he went on. “That was the agreement they had—that he’d help Raymond against Bluetooth, and then Raymond would help Rufus conquer his half of the Urwald—”

  “Rufus doesn’t have a half of the Urwald,” Jinx snapped. “And neither does Reven.”

  Helgur made a shut-up gesture. “I’m telling you what they’ve planned. When the war’s over, Keyland and Bragwood will be much, much bigger, and the border between them will be—” He frowned, and looked at Simon. “I’m not sure where exac
tly—”

  “About right here,” said Cottawilda.

  “We’ve got a map,” said small Silas.

  “Don’t tell them that!” said Jinx.

  Small Silas looked stricken, and Jinx felt bad. “I mean, please don’t tell them that. They’re not on our side.”

  “I wouldn’t have brought them through the doorpath if they weren’t,” said Maud.

  “We certainly are,” said Berga indignantly. “Not because it’s your side. But we are Urwalders.”

  “When did you remember that?” said Jinx.

  “They knew it all along,” said Wendell. “Or, well, that’s how it seems, anyway. I mean—” He looked at Berga, then looked away in embarrassment because she was nursing the baby. He turned to Helgur instead. “You sold supplies to Reven so that you could get information from his soldiers, right? So that they would trust you.”

  It was like Wendell to think the best of people; it was one of his more annoying traits. However, Jinx supposed it could be true.

  “So when is King Rufus supposed to get there?” said Jinx. “Where is he?”

  There were replies from all around the crowded kitchen.

  “He was around Mangled Nose Clearing six weeks ago.”

  “An ogre ate three of his men when they strayed off the path.”

  “He laid siege to Dovecote Clearing, and they had to come through the doorpaths. They’re living in Cold Oats Clearing now. They built huts.”

  “But where is he right now?” Simon demanded.

  “I’ll find out,” said Jinx. He saw that everyone else believed Helgur and Berga. He supposed he ought to as well.

  He went outside to talk to the trees. They didn’t pay much attention to the Restless, and usually couldn’t tell him where an individual person or werewolf was. But Rufus the Ruthless was a Terror, like Reven and the preceptors. They kept track of Terrors.

  Reven’s soldiers looked up as Jinx stepped into the ward tunnel. He could talk to the trees here. He used to have to take his boots and socks off and dig his toes into the dirt to hear the trees, but now he heard them as soon as he entered the forest.

  Do you know— he began.

  FIRE! cried the trees.

  An Attack of Wizards

  What— said Jinx.

  Death! Fire! Pain! Fire!

  It was only partly words. Jinx heard flames roaring up his limbs, felt sap bubbling in his veins, smelled smoke and terror and the loss of all hope.

  “Where!” He shouted it aloud by accident. He was dimly aware that the soldiers had gathered beside the tunnel and were staring at him. He ran to the Doorway Oak. The fire was . . . west of here, he thought. It was very hard to concentrate, because the flames were licking at his mind.

  He stood in the Doorway Oak and dithered. He could see the Doorways he’d made, dozens of them, as a series of overlapping arches. Which of them was closest to the fire?

  Calm down! he said. Tell me where it is!

  Pain! Where! Agony! Toward the sun, toward the sun and the summertime!

  Southwest? said Jinx. He showed them the forest near Gooseberry Clearing in his head.

  Yes, and toward summer! Fire!

  South of Gooseberry Clearing? he asked.

  Flames! Pain! Death!

  Jinx found the Gooseberry Clearing Doorway amid the overlapping array, and charged through it.

  He strode across the bare ground, clear of any huts since the Bonemaster’s attack. He could feel the trees’ pain and the enormous power of the fire. He tried to draw the flames into himself, but they were much too far away—miles away. He hurried into the forest.

  He ran, and stumbled, and walked, and ran again, tripping over roots and logs and getting scratched by thorns without noticing. Once or twice he thought he heard something following him, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. The trees needed him.

  He smelled smoke. Then he saw it, pouring through the trees. Trying to block the screams of dying trees, he felt for the leaping flames with his mind. Some of them were close enough to reach, and he drew them into him.

  The wind blew more smoke toward him. Choking, he ran through the surging black cloud, trying to get around to where it wasn’t. His eyes stung, his lungs felt on fire. He lurched blindly. Then he found himself free of the smoke at last.

  He drew in more fire. But more trees were screaming now. . . . The fire was spreading much faster than he could draw it in. This was too slow.

  Reaching out with his mind, he seized the fire and sent it deep underground, down to the Path of Fire, down to the deep tunnels through the rock that led to the nadir of all things.

  He grabbed more fire. And more. This was a much faster way to get rid of the flames. The Path had far more capacity to hold fire than Jinx did. Acre after flaming acre of fire went underground.

  Twice more, the rolling smoke swept over him and he had to move. Then suddenly the climbing flames burst into life right in front of him. He turned and ran, the flames licking and crackling behind him. He stumbled and fell and saw the flames tower above him. Then a sudden gust blew them back. He got up and ran further from the fire, and sent more flames underground.

  Finally there began to be less fire. And then Jinx became aware that he wasn’t the only one drawing on it.

  With a last heave, he gathered what remained of the flames and shoved them down into the Path of Fire. Then he staggered forward to look at the devastation.

  The ground was black and smoking. Red embers crawled among the ash; Jinx sent them underground too. Blackened tree trunks pointed at the sky, their branches gone. The burnt smell was overpowering, and the groans of the trees filled Jinx’s ears.

  He could see the far side of the charred area—and there were tiny figures standing at the edges. One of them bounced along in giant leaps, as if using a butter churn.

  In fact, there were people all around. And one of them was strolling toward him along the near edge. Jinx blinked his stinging eyes and saw Angstwurm’s dirty-white robe and square brown beard.

  The wizard handed him a goatskin pouch. “First forest fire, eh? Always bring water.”

  Jinx took the pouch. It sloshed. There was nothing untrustworthy in Angstwurm’s square, smug thoughts; not about the goatskin pouch, anyway. Jinx uncorked it and took a long, grateful swig.

  He handed the pouch back. “Thanks.”

  “And never approach from the leeward side,” said the wizard. “You look like you’ve been bathing in soot.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jinx was too distracted by the forest’s moans and lamentations to attend particularly to Angstwurm.

  “Strange how the fire just went out,” said Angstwurm. “We were trying to extinguish it—”

  “You were taking power from it!” said Jinx.

  “Of course. That’s how we extinguish fires. A method beneficial to both the forest and the magician.”

  “The fire spreads much faster than a wizard can—” Jinx’s throat couldn’t handle any more words. He reached for the pouch again, and took a long gulp.

  With a thump, a butter churn landed in front of him.

  “Little chipmunks shouldn’t question customs that have been around much longer than they have,” said Dame Glammer.

  “Witches can’t draw power from—” Jinx’s voice gave out again.

  “Chipmunks don’t know what witches can do, do they?” She cackled. “Not a wizard’s business to know.”

  “I’d certainly like to know what you did,” said Angstwurm. “A lot of wizards were relying on that fire’s power, you know. And it suddenly vanished.”

  Jinx made a gesture showing his throat was too sore to speak. He could see other wizards approaching, all robes and pointy hats in various colors; beards optional.

  There were an awful lot of them. A couple of dozen at least.

  “Yes, what happened?” demanded one of them.

  Jinx’s first instinct was to lie. He opened his mouth to say he didn’t know what Angstwurm was talking about.
Then an angry impulse overruled him. Lying was what frightened people did, and why should he be frightened? He’d spent too much of his life being afraid already.

  “I sent the fire underground,” he said.

  Angry murmurs from the wizards.

  “Pretty high-handed, wasn’t that?” said a light brown wizard in a dark brown robe.

  “Unhelpful,” said a short pink woman in a yellow-orange robe and pointy hat. She looked like an upside-down carrot.

  “Wants all the power for himself,” said an elderly wizard with a black robe and a beard even longer and whiter than the Bonemaster’s. “I’ve seen his type before.”

  “Haven’t we all,” said Brown Robes.

  “Mean,” said the Carrot.

  “Now now,” said Angstwurm. “It’s nice to see young people with magical talent. Of course, it’s also nice to see young people who respect the superior magical knowledge of their elders.”

  “Right,” said the Carrot.

  “And if they don’t have respect, they need to be taught it,” said the elderly wizard.

  Jinx scowled at them. He could see from their thoughts that they didn’t intend to hurt him—no, he corrected himself, they didn’t intend to kill him. But they certainly intended to put him in his place, and he was likely to get banged up on the way.

  Suddenly Jinx found himself inside a purple glass prison. It was a cube about as tall as he was. But then the ceiling began to drop, slowly. Jinx got to his knees and felt his way into the spell. The ceiling dropped still lower. Jinx hunched down, and began to be very uncomfortable. The box was a sort of ward spell, only with an odd element Jinx couldn’t figure out, and the moving ceiling was—not quite a reverse levitation, because it had more force behind it, but . . . Jinx felt his way into it and stopped the ceiling from dropping. Then he pushed it up again.

  “Clever.” The Carrot’s voice thrummed through the thick purple glass.

  “Simon won’t like it if you harm his chickabiddy, dearies!”

  “Where is Simon, then? Nobody’s seen him in years. And this jumped-up apprentice has taken over his house and filled it with his cronies.”

  Now the ceiling was getting further away. No, wait; the ceiling wasn’t moving. Jinx was sinking into the ground. Angstwurm’s leaden-legs spell again. Jinx concentrated on reversing it, and thus missed exactly where the screaming goldfishes came from.