Mystic: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  “No! I said he cannot do this. Those stones were not his to take. They are mine, and I will have them back.”

  “What do you mean to do about it? He is gone and the stones with him. He is a wizard, Loren. Even if he were here, you could not hope to steal his prize.”

  “Aye, he is a wizard. A fool and a poor wrestler. A hopeless woodsman, quiet and quick as a blind cow. He has his talents, but the man is mad if he thinks he can evade me.”

  Annis paled. “You cannot mean to pursue him.”

  “I do.”

  “Loren, he will kill us! We shall return to Wellmont and flee its doom with Jordel. At least then we will be away from danger.”

  “You said the same when Auntie took my dagger in Cabrus,” said Loren. “My answer has not changed.”

  “This is not the same! Xain is mad and far more powerful than she. He has already proved himself willing to hurt us. I do not think it will take much more for him to see us dead.”

  “We shall see. Come.”

  “I will not!” Annis stood, stamped her foot on the ground, and glared. “You will not drag me into death by the wizard’s fire. Too long have I walked by his side. He is gone, and I will not seek him again.”

  Loren looked at Annis, held her gaze, and nodded. “Very well. You are right. I cannot ask this of you.”

  “What?” Annis looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly that. You have gone farther than I could expect from any friend, and with no more assurance than your faith in me. I will not ask you to take another step when I am certain that great danger is waiting. See yourself safely to Wellmont. Take the chestnut horse.”

  Loren turned to her steed. But Annis scuttled behind, lifting her skirts to keep them free from dewy grass.

  “You will go alone? That is twice as foolish. How do you mean to find him?”

  “I told you he is a poor woodsman. Even now, I can see where his tracks lead out of the dell. I will follow them, slowly to see if I must, for I am mounted and he is not.”

  Loren grabbed a handful of mane and pulled herself onto her horse. It sidestepped, nearly unseated her, and then calmed.

  “And what do you mean to do once you find him?”

  “I will make him give me the stones,” said Loren. “By whatever means I can. If words will not work, I will twist his arm until he squeals like the pig he has shown himself to be.”

  “He is a wizard! He will set you ablaze!”

  “I do not believe that, even with all he has done. He might have killed you rather than leave you here bound but breathing. Then you could not have told me where he was headed. But he left you alive, Annis. He is not a murderer, only a stupid, stupid man.” Loren pressed her heels to the mount, and the horse walked slowly forwards. With a gentle tug on the tether, she led it towards the bent grass due east along the line of hills.

  “Wait!” Annis scrambled for the chestnut horse, who had wandered out of the dell and was now many paces away. “Wait for me!”

  Annis mounted her horse—an impressive feat, for it stood at least a hand taller than Loren’s—and kicked it forwards.

  “You spoke well before. You should stay. This is my choice, and no one should have to share it.”

  “Oh, still your flapping lips,” snapped Annis. “Of course you cannot ride off into danger on your own, you sow’s ear of an idiot. Did I when we fled my mother’s caravan?”

  “You did not. But this is not then.”

  “Yet I am the same,” said Annis. “And this is the single stupidest thing I have ever seen you do—an impressive claim considering our time together so far. I will not let you enter such madness without someone sensible to advise you. If nothing else, I will tell you when it is time to run.”

  Loren gave Annis a grim smile. “And I thank you for such a valuable service. But you have never seen me fight Xain. You may find him more eager to flee my company than the other way around.”

  Annis looked at Loren askance. “You have fought him before?”

  “More often than you might believe, and I tumbled him every time. His magic might be a bear’s trap, but the body behind it is a rusted hinge.”

  Annis pursed her lips and turned her eyes forwards. “I pray you are right.”

  In truth, Loren hoped the same. She had taught Xain a lesson or two in their time together. But the man they pursued was unlike the wizard she had met in the Birchwood.

  Loren held a single hope—that Xain was not a killer. But even as she thought that, Loren remembered his form crowned in light atop Wellmont’s south wall. He had rained fire and lightning upon the other side, and though she did not see the result, a tiny voice nagged inside her.

  What do you think he was doing? Do you not think his flame and his thunder claimed many lives?

  That was in war, she argued with herself. It is different. And he threw much fire at Vivien upon the Dragon’s Tail, yet he did not kill her.

  He almost did. He only stopped after you argued with him.

  Then I will argue with him now until his ears catch in his own flame. That is the end of it.

  And so it seemed to be, for the voice in her mind went silent.

  Xain moved in haste, for his tracks were deep and easy to spot. Loren was able to go much faster than she had hoped and found that her horse shifted easily beneath her despite the speed. The slightest tug on her tether moved the beast left or right, and she could mostly hold her eyes to the ground.

  “That is a fine beast,” said Annis, after some time had passed in silence. “You stole him from the sellswords?”

  “I did. I think I shall keep him, if I can.”

  “He must have belonged to an officer, or some wealthy man, for he moves easily under your touch. What will you call him?”

  Loren remembered her promise to the horse in the mercenary’s camp. We are not out of danger yet.

  “I have not decided.”

  Once the tracks had gone east for a while, they rose up the hillside. Loren found they were well east of the sellswords, who were scarcely a blur in the distance. Xain’s tracks went down the other side, due north, aiming for the Greatrocks poking just above the far off horizon. Now on more open ground, they could move faster, with Loren stopping only occasionally to mark the wizard’s tracks. Xain moved in a straight line, making no visible effort to mask his trail, which only simplified her work.

  They came upon another line of hills, and these were wooded so they had to slow once more. But the sun had risen, and the ground was softer, so Xain’s movements stood out like burning flames in the greenery. At the hills, they turned east and continued that way for a while.

  “What course is he taking? The wizard seems aimless.”

  “He is not,” said Loren. “Though he does not walk on the road, he is following its course. That road will go east to follow the river. He will turn north after a while and take the King’s road until he comes again to the Seat.”

  “And then?”

  Loren shuddered under her cloak, thinking of Xain arriving at the Seat for his son, eyes glowing black from the magestones’ power. “’Tis not our business what Xain does with his share. I am concerned only with our stones.”

  The hills opened into wide plains, and they found themselves nearly on top of Xain. There he walked, a small figure in a brown coat scarcely half a mile in the distance. He had no hills in which to hide. No rocks nor trees. He had yet to spy them but surely would once their hoofbeats sounded behind him.

  “We are exposed,” said Annis in a quivering voice. “Loren, it would be foolish to approach him like this.”

  My only hope is my belief in him.

  “He will not harm us,” Loren insisted. “Come. Let us chat with this wizard.”

  She spurred her horse forwards. It nearly threw her from its back breaking into a gallop. Annis rode easily, and together they descended upon the wizard in a thunder of hooves.

  Loren’s pulse raced when Xain turned to face them, but he made no
move to attack. Instead, she was sure that he smiled as they drew near. He stood frozen, hands at his sides. She saw no glow in his eyes.

  They reined to a stop ten paces away. Loren studied the wizard in silence while thinking of what to say. He spoke before she could, his voice pleasant and light on the morning air.

  “Well met again, though I did not expect the pleasure. When I ask you to fetch me a horse, you are most diligent. I will take the chestnut, for I think the black one suits you.”

  “You shall have neither. You have betrayed me again, and for that I will not forgive you. But I will allow you to leave after you return our share of the magestones.”

  “And why should I? You cannot take them from me, and I can make better use of them than you can.”

  “They are mine. Ours,” she amended, glancing at Annis. “You mean to leave us bereft and penniless. I will not allow it.”

  “Allow it?” he snarled with glittering eyes. “Since when have you let me do anything, daughter of the family Nelda? You have been little more than a burden upon my back since we met, despite my many attempts to shake you. I would regret ever helping you escape your father if it were not for the stones I now hold in my pocket. From these I will not part. They are payment for your caretaking.”

  “If you think to anger me with your insults, you may save your breath. Your share is enough to vanquish your foes and make a good life for you and your child besides. Why persist in this folly? Why not treat us fairly, so we may part as friends as you promised?”

  “Because promises to little girls mean nothing.”

  Despite Loren’s words, her blood began to boil. She flung her tether to Annis and leapt from her mount, marching towards Xain with clenched fists. She did not know her own intentions—to mayhap strike him in the face or throw him to the ground and drag the magestones from his pocket by force. Jordel’s words on the docks returned to her mind: gag a firemage, and he was powerless.

  But Xain forced her to a stop with a flick of his wrists. Darkfire found his palms, and his eyes glowed black—an even more terrifying sight amidst the light of day. Terror gripped her as it had on Brimlad’s boat in the river.

  “Stay your hand, wretch! You cannot imagine the terrible things darkfire will do to flesh. But I will show you if you are so eager to find death in my flames.”

  “Give me my stones, Xain. I will not ask again.”

  “Turn around, and scuttle off.”

  “Loren!” cried Annis.

  Loren would not take her eyes from Xain’s. Over her shoulder, she said, “Be still, Annis. Or turn and leave if you must—I will not blame you.”

  “Oh, be an idiot not,” she snapped. “Look! Riders!”

  Xain’s fires guttered out. His eyes returned to normal as he looked past Loren in confusion.

  Loren turned to follow his gaze: Annis was right.

  Across the plain rode seven figures on horseback, thundering toward them in a cloud of dust. Loren felt equal parts fear and relief as she recognized the red cloaks that each of them wore, and she recognized Jordel and Vivien at their head.

  thirty-eight

  LOREN STRAIGHTENED, HAND TO DAGGER. Xain muttered a curse behind her.

  “How did they find us?” Annis said.

  Loren turned from the riders to Annis. “It must have been Jordel. He has some skill with tracking, and if he found our boat on the shore it would have been no great feat to follow us from there. Especially since we wasted so much time at the mercenary camp.”

  Xain said, “And here I thought my escape was clean.”

  “Do you jest?” said Loren. “You wander about like a drunken cub. I could have followed you blindfolded.”

  As the Mystics drew nearer, Loren saw Gem riding on Jordel’s horse. The riders slowed as they came near. Gem slid from the saddle and ran straight for Annis to catch her in a hug. She held him for a moment, and then turned to look warily at Jordel above them.

  The Mystics fanned out into a line, with Jordel and Vivien at their center. Jordel’s eyes grazed the group from Loren to Xain, but Vivien stared at the wizard. Her glare was icy, the muscles in her jaw spasming as she clenched her teeth. Another five Mystics stayed silent and still, faces grim. Each had a hand on their hilts. Loren wondered if any were wizards or if they were mage hunters as Jordel had once been.

  “I weary of chasing you across the nine lands,” Jordel said.

  “As I am worn of running. It seems we would both be better served if you ceased your pursuit. Turn around, and ride back to Wellmont—especially you, Loren of the family Nelda. I mean to leave this place and all of you behind. Nothing can sway me.”

  Jordel sighed. Loren thought she saw sadness in his eyes. “Alas, I cannot allow you to do that.”

  “What is this talk of allowing?” said Xain, growing angry. “You and the girl both seem to have grand ideas of what I may or may not do at your command. How exactly do you mean to stop me?”

  “I would rather not have to,” said Jordel. “But we will if we must. If you do not choose to aid me, you will be executed as a rogue wizard. You have attacked Vivien twice now, which is cause enough for your punishment. Mayhap you will escape us today, and mayhap not—but if you refuse to join me, you will find no safety in any land where the Mystics hold sway.”

  “Please refuse him,” said Vivien. “I would happily see you destroyed.”

  “You would have done the same in Wellmont,” said Xain. “Yet it did not work then. No matter how often I teach you the lesson, you forget that you are powerless as a child to me. If I must dole out your punishment again, so be it.”

  “But you will see I am not alone,” Vivien smirked. “And I will happily command my companions to kill you. They have no fondness for wizards.”

  “They are mage hunters, then,” muttered Loren.

  “What is a mage hunter?” whispered Gem.

  “Mystics trained to capture or kill rogue wizards,” said Annis. Loren looked at her, surprised. The girl shrugged and said, “I have heard tell, though I have never seen them put to the field.”

  Jordel turned an angry gaze on Vivien. “You are too eager for a fight, and it ill becomes you. Hold your tongue if you cannot keep it civil.” He turned back to Xain, his voice calm. “I shall offer you a final chance. Honor your agreement. You saw the wisdom in my words when we spoke in Wellmont, and I know in my heart that yours were no deception. If you have reconsidered since, mull it again so that you may see the wisdom in joining me.”

  “Doubtless you think my mind will change when swayed by your threats. But I see no wisdom in pledging myself to a doomed cause. Mayhap you will succeed, but I think it more likely that you and all who fight beside you will be consumed. I will not choose that fate—not while another depends on me. I only wish for my life back and my son. Will you deny that as a just wish?”

  “I will not,” said Jordel. “Nor will I deny its fulfillment. My offer still stands, in full. Your son will be restored to you, and all your crimes against the King’s law pardoned. No one else will give you better terms.”

  Xain did not answer for a moment. His brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down in a scowl. But his eyes appeared thoughtful. Mayhap his rejection was not so resolute as he wanted it to seem.

  Say yes. Accept Jordel’s terms, and let us put this matter behind us.

  Jordel seemed to sense Xain’s hesitation, for he leaned earnestly forwards. “Take the course of wisdom. You know the calamity that threatens us all. Mayhap you and your son can escape, but I do not think so. Where will you flee when darkness descends upon all the nine lands? Will you live your life in fear and flight, or do your part to keep that terror from others?”

  The air hung silent. Tiny hairs on Loren’s arm and neck tingled as she awaited the wizard’s response.

  Before Xain could answer, one of the Mystics cried, “Riders!”

  The air clanged with drawn steel, and the Mystics turned their horses as one. All but Jordel, who held his eyes t
o Xain.

  Loren turned to the western hills where Jordel and Vivien had emerged but a moment before.

  A company of horsemen with lances and armor were riding hard and fast towards them.

  thirty-nine

  “TO ARMS!” VIVIEN CRIED.

  “I count at least two score, and mayhap three,” reported one of the Mystics. They had formed into a line to bravely face the oncoming riders. But each of the Mystics wore only a short chainmail shirt beneath their red cloaks. The approaching riders were bedecked in plate and mail, lances sharp and long, tips glittering in the early sunlight.

  Jordel grew exasperated as Xain still refused to answer, so he wheeled his horse around to survey the riders.

  “What are they doing here so far ahead of the main host? It is as though they search for something.”

  Annis gave Loren a pointed look and cleared her throat.

  Loren said, “I am afraid they may be hunting me. I . . . well, you must understand our circumstances . . .”

  “I have nearly run out of patience for your foolishness,” said Jordel. “Tell me what happened, and quickly.”

  “The mercenaries have suffered a catastrophe,” Loren said, raising her chin in defiance. “Their horses stampeded through the camp, for their tethers were cut and they were driven to madness. I had a hand in it.”

  “Of course you did.” Jordel cast his exasperated eyes to the sky.

  “I would have had no problems were you not here. I could have hidden from them easily, but the seven of you in your red cloaks look like roses upon the landscape.”

  “Be silent,” said Vivien. The sellswords had broken into a gallop, their horses leaping across the empty plane. “This is not the time for your prattling, for it will not stay their hands.”

  “I do not understand,” Jordel said, his voice soft and surprisingly unhurried. “Our scouts told us the mercenaries approached from the east, by the road that runs along the Dragon’s Tail. They should not be this far west.”