by R. K. Thorne
He glanced at the water basin. The innkeeper had brought up steaming water, a bundle of lavender, and lush towels that Aven had as yet ignored. The lavender only made him ache for her. This inn was nicer than any he and Miara had stayed in on their journeys. Why hadn’t they lucked by this one? Perhaps because of timing; the larger group traveled slower. Or perhaps the larger group needed a larger inn, but one off the fastest route. It didn’t matter. How silly, though, that he wished he were back on that journey toward Mage Hall. At least then, he’d had Miara by his side.
And known she was alive.
He eyed the water again. Could he try the farsight spell? No harm in trying it, was there? Wunik hadn’t mentioned any risks to avoid.
He stalked toward the water, then remembered Wunik’s blessing. Optional, he’d said, but it couldn’t hurt to have a bit more luck on his side at the moment.
A bunch of small mums were gathered on the desk in a small vase. Did the inn put flowers in all the rooms or just the king’s room? No matter. He plucked a petal from one and tossed it into the water with a silent prayer, then shut his eyes.
Wunik had spoken of the task like opening a window into the air itself. He pictured opening a window in the middle of the sky outside the inn. If he could just get that working, it’d be a miracle. He struggled to imagine it, add detail to the picture. Nothing happened. He didn’t even need to open his eyes, he could feel that no energy had been released.
Wunik had also described it as similar to opening your eyes. Or more accurately, another eye, a third one that you could move wherever the air reached.
Aven squeezed his eyes shut, picturing the sky above again.
And then, slowly, he opened them again.
He’d thought the bowl would fill with light, as Wunik’s had. But instead, a darkness spilled across the bowl and opened outward, filling the formerly cream-colored water basin as though the water had turned to ink.
But there in the center, he could see it. The inn. It was working.
Did he remember the road, after the last few times going there? Could he slide his way all the way to Mage Hall? If he recalled, it was a fairly straight shot along this particular road…
Miles flew past. Although night, the occasional rider or wagon was still visible. Could any of them have been the mages he’d tried to free?
The road and night grew darker as he went and clouds covered the moon. He lost track of the road in the darkness. He had no idea what he was seeing, which way he was headed. He just had a feeling, a direction. He’d just have to listen to his gut.
And then a village floated by, then another, and then he could see it. Mage Hall and the sea of wheat waving in the wind around it.
Wait. Miara wouldn’t be here yet. She and her captors would still be on the road, or they would have passed his party. Wouldn’t they have? How long would it have taken if they’d flown the whole way? He had no idea.
But much as he was concerned for Miara, he had to admit he knew why he was here. It was not because he expected to actually spot her there.
Daes.
Could he catch a glimpse of what the man was up to?
Aven moved the eye toward the Master’s Hall, the great hold where he’d spent such a lovely time. His shoulder panged, and the image wavered for a moment. He rubbed the spot with his hand and tried to brush it off. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the brand that still gave him phantom pains, but the burns on his shoulders and chest, long since healed away with Miara’s magic. No one would ever know from looking there had been a wound there. But apparently his body—or his mind—had not forgotten.
No activity in the grassy fields in the center. Pairs of guards patrolled—two, three, maybe more? Far more than when they’d started. If Aven couldn’t spot Daes or Miara, he could at least try to see if Menaha, Kae, or Sefim had escaped.
He swung the eye around the other side of the building just in time to see figures getting into a carriage. Odd. Why would they be leaving at this time of night? A secret departure? Who could it be? And where could they be headed?
Aven swooped closer as the carriage door shut and the horses started off. It took all his concentration to follow behind the carriage and move closer. Perhaps if he got alongside the door, he could see through the carriage window.
A bead of real-life sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eye, breaking his concentration. The image faltered as he fell behind the carriage.
Aven wiped his brow with the back of his hand and quickly grabbed hold of the basin, willing his mind to focus, to hurry up.
He caught up with the carriage again. The carriage windows were drawn shut with a curtain. Damn it.
He almost gave up and let the image dissolve. To stop chasing the carriage at that precise rate was very tempting, to say the least. But—air mage, right.
He directed an overzealous gust of wind toward the carriage’s door, which banged against its fastening a bit. But his ploy worked. The curtain was blown aside, and he caught a glimpse of three people. An older man, a girl, and Daes.
Could it be…
Sure, the man and girl could be Daes’s family, although he didn’t seem like the type of man who had any family or who spent any time with them if he did. Or simply some other folks related to one of the Masters, or even Daes’s servants.
Or… could they be Miara’s father and sister?
Perhaps Daes had received word of the attack from his mages and the confusion over Samul. Perhaps they were moving to act. The spy’s confirmation supported this theory as well. If Daes meant to strike while chaos swept Akaria, he could be headed south with the troops right this very instant.
If he’d had Miara killed… if he knew she were no longer a threat… he wouldn’t bring her father and sister with him somewhere.
Of course, he had no real proof that these people were Miara’s family. Aven pulled back and followed the carriage from an easier, less precise distance. They could simply be his servants. But a young girl? No, this must have to do with the scroll. What if Daes was keeping her family with him so he could make good on his threats?
Aven followed the carriage doggedly for some time. It rode straight south and did indeed pass a fort, where many additional soldiers were camped outside—not their permanent accommodations. Some of Kavanar’s forces were indeed moving south. The carriage traveled even farther south, it seemed.
Just outside Evrical, in the swampy marshes that dominated the southern borders of Kavanar, the carriage finally reached its destination. Daes, the man, and the girl got out of the carriage and headed into one of the king of Kavanar’s three residences—Trenedum Palace. As far from Estun as it could probably be, the white marble building lounged amid the marsh and swamp, mosses and ferns draped across it like scarves. Vines crawled up the sides, and many-paned stained glass windows alternated between majestic white columns.
What were they doing here?
A woman strode down the front steps to greet them. Aven peered closer. It was nearly pitch-black in the night, save a few guards and torches. The woman wore a green dress and her eyes were round with… excitement, joy? A gold crown, adorned with rubies and horn-like spikes, circled her brow.
The queen of Kavanar? Greeting them, alone at night?
Daes took both of her hands in his with a bow and a kiss. Not a wholly inappropriate greeting… but Aven’s gut told him something more was at work here.
The four of them went up the stairs and into the mansion.
Exhausted anyway, Aven released the spell and collapsed back onto his bed, closing his eyes. What did any of that mean?
He had so many pieces. How was he supposed to put any of them together when—
No. He couldn’t go there. He had to keep going, keep thinking straight. There would be time to process after they reached Panar, after the vote, after everything settled down again.
If it ever settled down again.
Miara might be there waiting for him. Everything might be fine. Perhaps she�
��d just encountered unexpected resistance in her escape. If she wasn’t in Panar, he would have time to head to the lake and see if she waited there. And if she didn’t… there would be time then to fall apart and try to figure out how to put the pieces of his life back together. He rolled onto his side, kicking off his boots, and willed himself to just collapse in the oblivion of sleep.
Not so long ago, he’d have been tied to this bed, he thought. And he’d have had Miara at his side. He opened his eyes and stared at the dull, silver-gray wool blankets that lay too undisturbed and neat beside him.
Gods, what he wouldn’t give to have her by his side again. He should have never agreed to let her stay behind, despite his father’s concerns.
What if something had happened? What if he never saw her again?
There were no answers to these questions. He struggled to tamp them down and urge himself into the oblivion of sleep. He tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity, and when sleep did come, his dreams were flooded with the same dark, unanswerable questions.
Jaena’s earthquakes had rattled the Devoted a little, but their dark hoods remained at their posts in the center of the road.
“What are they doing?” she asked Tharomar.
Darkness had fallen, so their locations were unclear. “I think they’re still there, just sort of clumped together,” he said.
“Damn.”
“About time for that other idea of yours?” He raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. “Let’s get our stuff together. We might have to follow them, or at least be ready to run.”
“Run toward them or away from them?”
“Either.”
“Seems like a very detailed plan. You give me such faith.”
She shrugged. “You seem to have plenty of faith without me giving you any.” She had no idea if this would work. Of course, venturing into the swamp now that darkness had fallen would be much harder, so she hoped she’d get lucky. She couldn’t imagine her and Tharomar attacking the Devoted at the moment, not when heading into the swamp could avoid it. So if her ploy failed, the swamp was next.
As he gathered up the belongings that they’d scattered in the course of the afternoon and early evening, she gathered her thoughts and marshaled her energy. She didn’t know what to expect or if this would work, but that dog that she had dredged up certainly seemed to have scared off the Devoted in their first encounter while she’d hidden in her man-made cave. Maybe she could do the same thing again.
But another dog? Would that do the trick? One lone dog approaching six men, and no other dogs to send after him? That didn’t seem like enough. What about… maybe a form more like a man.
But bigger.
Yes, that would be it. A lot bigger. And the swamp was full of plenty of muck to meet her needs. She closed her eyes, bunching the mud together, visualizing a giant. Much taller than her, taller than Ro, although they were both tall. This creature would be taller than three men high, maybe a little more.
Although she couldn’t yet see it, she could feel the muddy form rise from the swamp. Globs of dirt dripped from it, splashing back into the water as it rose. It took a step forward, the earth trembling beneath her.
She beckoned it forward another step, then another. The thuds grew louder as it neared them and staggered toward the road.
“Is that… Are you doing that?” Ro had sunk into a tense crouch; he must be hearing it, maybe seeing it too.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. It’s just mud.”
“Last I heard, mud doesn’t exactly get up and walk on its own.” He took a step back, then another. She wondered if he realized what he was doing. Yada shifted nervously nearby.
“All right, well, it’s me and the mud. Unless you want to go clobber them with that mace?”
He winced. “Point taken.”
“Can you comfort her? If the creature just scares the Devoted farther down the road, we may need to walk along behind it.”
He nodded, remembering himself and creeping over toward the horse.
All the while she brought the mud man forward, step by step. Maybe she should have started closer because now it seemed like an endless hike to get those damn Devoted. But it was too late for that now.
She ducked low and crept closer to the edge of the road to see better.
The Devoted all turned to face her abruptly. She stifled the urge to hide. They couldn’t see her hidden in the dark. They could, however, see the outline of a monstrous black form against the early night sky. She could see it too, for that matter.
She picked up the pace, but the concentration required was grueling. One step, then another, then another. All of her mind strained to bind the creature together, to grip each piece as it moved forward, to make it as intimidating and menacing as possible.
Gods, let this work. After this effort, she would be drained. She and Ro might end up sleeping by the side of the road for the night anyway, having made no progress. It was much too cold for that, unless they huddled together for warmth. That didn’t sound so bad…
Focus, girl, focus. But what the seven hells would this group of Devoted do if the creature actually reached them?
That might be a weakness in her plan. She’d counted on frightening them away first. If she—the creature—reached them, she had no idea what to do. Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Maybe she wouldn’t need to.
Thud. Thud. The creature thundered forward. The Devoted Knights clustered together. Did they have weapons raised? She squinted into the night. Crossbows? It was too far to know for sure.
Not that crossbows could hurt mud.
However, it would be good to know if they had ranged weapons. If she and Ro were thinking about making a run at them. Much as they both wanted to avoid that.
The creature was about fifty yards away now. One of them stepped forward, shouted something she couldn’t quite make out in the night. He raised something in both hands.
A crossbow bolt struck the mud. The creature felt no pain, just one more bit of debris sloshing around inside its glopping body of wet clay, sand, and stone. She made certain not to react and simply took another step forward. Then another.
She was getting closer now. More bolts fired. Another step. Another.
Her mud monster was only about ten paces from them now. They staggered back a few paces, reeling, but intent on holding their ground. Two weighty logs blocked the road, a barricade to slow down any who approached. Maybe she could use those logs for something.
She focused on the creature’s arms, the hands that until now had been unformed. Via the creature, she crossed the last two steps before their barricade and seized one of the logs. The men scampered back, out of reach. Just as well, since she didn’t want to hit them. Well, maybe only a little.
She heaved the log into the air and then hurled it off into the forest, as though it weighed nothing, as though it were no strain at all.
The second former tree she seized and lifted up over the creature’s head. She held it for a moment, wondering if they would perceive the threat or if the intentions of a monster made of mud were too hard to read.
Apparently they could figure it out. Four Devoted scampered back, twisting and breaking into a run. Someone swore.
Two still remained. She thundered another step forward. They responded with more bolts fired.
Hmm. They seem determined to stand their ground.
She could hurl the log at them. That didn’t exactly accomplish the goal of not hurting them, but it probably wouldn’t kill them. Probably. Hard to judge weight or the creature’s strength via the mud. Was there something else she could do? Why wouldn’t these damn men get out of her way? What had she ever done to deserve any of this? What could possibly motivate people to devote their whole lives to simply hunting down other people for their magic? Were they jealous? Bored? Had they been personally wronged? She doubted it.
Any personal wrongs were unlikely to measure up to her personal
wrongs. Had they been torn from their families? Had they lost a sister to this mess? She wanted to scream at them, roar out her frustration—
To her surprise, a horrifying sound erupted from the creature. Neither scream nor roar, exactly. Which made sense, considering the creature didn’t have vocal cords. In fact, she wasn’t sure exactly how it created the sound. Rocks tumbled around amid the mud, and they shook and collided as the creature shouted its rage at them.
She slammed the log to the ground just before their feet. It collided with the earth, dust rising and shaking everything around them. The two men finally stumbled back, arms askew, struggling to keep their balance.
She lifted the log again. Another bellow erupted from the creature made of mud.
Finally, finally, they turned and ran, racing toward horses that yanked and pulled at their tied-off reins.
Back in her body, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her mud man thundered after them a good hundred human paces, but they didn’t stop. Some freed their horses and took off at a gallop farther down the road, and others lost control of their mounts and fled on foot.
Where would they head? To Anonil? Probably. She doubted she’d seen the last of them.
But at least she and Ro could make their way farther now, without killing anyone and without trudging through the swamp. She waited just a moment longer to be sure the Devoted meant to put some distance between them and the creature. They never slowed.
She coaxed her creature back to its swampy home and gradually released the spell, letting the mud slide apart, finally laying its hefty mass back to rest in the mire of the swamp.
Odd how it had felt almost alive, like a real flesh-and-blood creature, enough so that she ached to let it slide back into oblivion. But it was not the Way; the creature was not a natural thing by any stretch. About that much, Ro was right. She’d disturbed the Balance by creating it, but hopefully she’d only offset the imbalance those vile Devoted had created in the first place. After everything that her gifts had cost her, couldn’t some good come from them?