A Muddle of Magic

by Alexandra Rushe

  “For Kron’s sake, spit it out, you old windbag,” Gertie said, snapping her jaws.

  “We-e-ell.” Gowyr rolled his eyes. “The fact is, the giant didn’t take the Lady Raine to the fast. He went north.”

  “North?” Gertie said. “Why in thunder would he go north?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Gowyr said in his plummy voice. “You’ll have to ask him, though I doubt you’ll get a sensible answer. Kron knows, I tried to converse with the great oaf, but he ignored me.”

  “Mor.” Raven gave the troll a grim look. “What exactly did you say to Tiny? Think.”

  “I told him to take Raine someplace safe. What of it?”

  “Obviously, you and Tiny disagree on what constitutes ‘safe.’”

  The troll swore. “Drat, that giant. He’s taken her into Udom.”

  “Udom?” Raven said in alarm. “Why in Tro’s name would he take her there?”

  “To see his mother,” Gertie said. “Tiny dotes on his mam.”

  * * * *

  Late that afternoon, Raven and Gertie found the giant in a gorge with his back against a pine tree. His chin was on his chest, and his massive legs were stretched in front of him, ragged and bloody from deep cuts.

  Gertie nudged the giant with her paw. “Wake up, Tiny. Where’s Raine?”

  Tiny raised his head. He blinked at Gertie and began to cry. “They took her,” he wailed. “Them dirty squiggies took her. I tried to catch ‘em, but they be too fast. Kron only knows what they means to do wiv ʼer.”

  Raven knelt and took a swift catalog of the giant’s hurts. “How long ago was this, Tiny?” he asked, gently examining a sword wound on the giant’s chest.

  “A few hours, mayhap. I dunno.”

  “How badly is he hurt?” Gertie asked.

  Raven got to his feet. “He’s cut in more than a dozen places, but none too deep, thanks to his tough hide and the hide vest he’s wearing. You stay with Tiny. I’m going after Raine.”

  A pebble rattled behind them, and Raven drew his sword. An enormous black dog trotted up the canyon. It was a garhound, the gigantic breed of dogs used by the Durngesi to guard their cattle and carry their warriors into battle. The dog whined when it saw Raven’s sword and sat down on its haunches.

  “Alden,” Gertie said. “I might have known you’d follow us.” She glanced at Raven. “You’re lucky you didn’t get skewered, sneaking up on Raven like that.”

  “A garhound is not heard unless he wishes to be,” Alden said in a growling voice. He fixed his unblinking gaze on the giant. “There are dead Shads back there. Did you kill them?”

  “Aye, I killed the filthy runties,” Tiny said. “Terald and Fensal helped, but it weren’t enow.” His mouth trembled. “They tooks Rainey, anyway.”

  “They were after the gareeni?”

  “Yes…no…” Tiny shrugged. “Them Shads been pestering me the past moon and more.” He hissed as Gertie slathered astringent on a deep gash. “Ow, that hurts.”

  “Quit squawking,” the troll said, continuing her ministrations. “These cuts have to be cleaned, or they will fester.”

  “Why would Shads be interested in a giant?” the dog asked, tilting his great head.

  “I dunno.” Tiny clenched his teeth as Gertie set to work on another cut. “Reckon the Dark Wizard’s got it in for me, seeing as how I helped Rainey.”

  Raven frowned at the garhound. “You are a shapeshifter?”

  Gertie snorted. “Obviously, son. Alden is the trivan. Na’ima’s skin gives him certain abilities.”

  “I see,” Raven said. “Snow is coming, Mor. Build a fire and keep it fed. Dark things roam the hills of Udom, and the giant’s blood will draw them.”

  “I’ll take care of Tiny,” Gertie said. “You find the girl.”

  “Aye.” Tiny looked at Raven, his brown eyes full of misery. “You find ʼer and bring her back, hear?”

  “I’ll find her,” Raven promised.

  He trotted away. Settling into a ground-eating lope, he scanned his surroundings for signs of the Shads. He hadn’t gone far when the garhound caught up with him.

  “Odd,” Raven said, without slowing. “I don’t remember inviting you along.”

  “I don’t remember asking.” The dog’s tongue lolled from his mouth, mocking Raven. “You need me. I am a seeker and a skilled tracker.”

  “The veriest idiot could follow this trail,” Raven said in disgust. “They are traveling fast without bothering to cover their tracks, the fools. The monsters of Udom are ravenous, and they hold no treaty with Shad Amar.”

  “We must hurry, then. The gareeni is in grave peril.”

  They followed the trail deeper into the unforgiving terrain. They’d gone perhaps a league more when it began to snow.

  Glumly, Raven watched the white blanket obscure the Shads’ trail.

  “You said it would snow,” the garhound panted. “ʼTis a burden you and I share, my friend, being right.”

  A gust of wind set the snowflakes scurrying, and something black tumbled from the scraggy bushes. The dog was after it in a flash.

  “Give me that,” Raven said, striding up.

  The garhound released the object and backed away with a growl. Ignoring the dog’s agitation and raised hackles, Raven turned the thing over in his hands.

  “It’s a hat,” Raven said. “A black hat with a red line on the brim.”

  “Haksel,” the garhound said with a snarl. “I’d know that packless cur’s scent anywhere. He is one of the shadelsh, agents loyal to Glonoff. A few years ago, I went in search of a stray calf and happened upon a young shepherd, a boy from tribe Kosh, wounded and left for dead. I wrapped him in a blanket and gave him black gurshee to ease his pain. Before he died, he told me Shads had attacked his camp. They killed his dog and stole his cattle. Can you guess the leader of that group?”

  “Haksel?” Raven said.

  “Aye. The villain stabbed the boy in the belly and told him his name, laughing all the while. He never guessed, you see, the boy would live long enough to name his murderer. I followed the Shads to the border of Shad Amar, and lost them, but I’ve had Haksel’s stench in my nostrils since.” The garhound whined. “It pains me to think of the gareeni in the clutches of such a one.”

  Raven crushed the hat in his hands. “It pains me, as well, but not nearly as much as it’s going to pain Haksel.”

  “Nay,” the dog protested. “Haksel is my meat.”

  “Not if I get to him first.”

  The dog bared his teeth. “Then, let us press on and see who wins the prize.”

  * * * *

  Haksel paused, the hair on the back of his neck stirring. Years spent within the treacherous ranks of the shadelsh had honed his instincts, and they were shrieking.

  They were being hunted.

  Some monster, no doubt. This cursed land was infested with them. He’d felt their rapacious scrutiny the last several leagues. He shrugged it off. He was a Shad, accustomed to goggins. The creatures of Udom did not worry him. Glonoff did. He’d failed with the giant, but he had the girl. It was enough. It had to be.

  Better to throw himself in a bottomless pit than return to Shad Amar empty handed.

  He glanced back at the men straggling behind him. They’d been one hundred strong when they’d come into Udom; less than twenty remained. His men took turns carrying the unconscious girl. All but Derek. He’d taken an ice dagger in the arm during the battle with the raging frost giant, and his left arm hung useless.

  Haksel’s lip curled. Derek’s wound would draw predators. He should kill him and be done with it, but the others would likely take exception.

  “Can we stop, Haksel?” Derek said, staggering from blood loss. “My arm hurts.”

  He started nervously when his voice bounced off the rocks around them.


  “Lower your voice, fool,” Haksel said. “You’re slowing us down, and you’ve left a bloody trail anyone could follow.”

  “It’s not my fault,” Derek whimpered. “My arm.”

  “Damn your arm,” Haksel said. “I should stake you out for the monsters to gnaw on.”

  Derek seemed to sense Haksel’s seething rage and lapsed into a resentful silence.

  Haksel turned and led the way up the trail. He cast a worried glance at the darkening sky. He’d hoped to make Urak Pass before sunset, but night came early in this godforsaken land. They’d have to make camp soon. A man traveling after dark through such terrain risked a broken neck.

  Haksel would not risk his remaining men. The gograh was skinny, nothing like her luscious twin, but he couldn’t carry her over the mountains alone.

  A huge misshapen creature leapt across the path in front of them and disappeared on the other side. Haksel cursed and drew his sword, peering into the darkening gloom, but the creature was gone.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the other men and made a joke. It was a feeble jest, but the men laughed nervously. Haksel was suddenly glad of their company. These cursed, desolate mountains stripped a man bare and left him shivering.

  The narrow path suddenly widened into a rocky bowl, with cliffs on either side. Somewhere up ahead on the trail, there came a dry rasping sound and the skitter of claws. That thing, whatever it was, waited for them, ready to pounce from the darkness.

  It started to snow, and Haksel reached a decision. “We’ll camp here,” he said.

  The monster in the shadows would weary of waiting and move on before dawn.

  Haksel took the gograh’s limp form from one of the men and pointed to a jut of rocks on one side of the clearing.

  “We’ll take shelter under that shelf of rock,” he said. “It will provide some relief from the wind. Fetch wood and build a fire and be quick about it. Night is falling.”

  On one side of the clearing, several withered trees grew in the rocky soil, their dry branches reaching for the sky like bony fingers. Something about them gave Haksel the shivers. His men broke branches from the trees and started a fire with pine needles and twigs.

  Haksel surveyed their hasty camp with satisfaction. The sheer cliff at their backs would prevent an attack from behind, and the fire would deter predators. A couple of guards at either end of the trail, and their position would be secure.

  “Derek, you and Clonn have first watch,” Haksel said. “If anything moves out there, anything atall, sound the alarm.”

  “But, Haksel,” Derek said. “What about my arm?”

  Haksel regarded him coldly. “What about it? Anyone who doesn’t pull their weight gets left behind. You didn’t help with the girl, so you get the first watch.”

  He turned his back on Derek, ending the discussion.

  “Altii, bind the gograh’s hands and feet,” he said. “The effects of the drug should be wearing off soon, and I’m in no mood to go stumbling after her in the dark.”

  “Right away, Haksel,” Altii said.

  The sun set, and they huddled miserably around the camp fire. It was still snowing, and the wind was bitterly cold. Haksel filled his pipe with gurshee and lit it.

  “I hate Udom,” one of the soldiers muttered, examining the holes in his boots. “ʼTis a cursed, miserable place. Look what the rocks have done to my boots.” He slid Haksel an ugly look. “It’s not like I can afford a new pair. I’m enlisted scum, not one of Glonoff’s pets.”

  Haksel drew on his pipe and let the comment pass. The lot of the common soldier in Glonoff’s army was harsh. Conditions were deplorable and the men grossly underpaid. Despite this, the army’s ranks stayed swollen. By law, neither a soldier nor the members of his family could be sacrificed to Magog, and avoiding the altar was of primary concern to the average citizen of Shad Amar.

  Haksel was no average man. He was a member of the shadlesh, and, thus, richly compensated in coin and gurshee. He would allow the men their petty grievances, he decided, taking the black gurshee deep into his lungs. The sweet lethargy of the drug spread to his brain and muscles, dissolving his tension. He smiled. He was in it for the gurshee, and no doubt. The gurshee was all that mattered, the giddy, intoxicating splendor of the drug.

  “Your boots are the least of your problems,” he said to the men. “If we’d gotten what we came for, we’d all be rich, but we botched the job. Glonoff doesn’t tolerate failure. We’ll be lucky if we aren’t gutted like pigs and hung at the gates of Zorbash to display our shortcomings.”

  “We got the gograh,” Altii said. “That’s something.”

  Haksel glanced down at the girl’s still form. “Aye. That thought alone keeps me from heading south to Tamir or east to the mines of Sethlar.” He blew out a puff of gurshee smoke. “Not that there’s much point in running.”

  “Why not?” Altii asked.

  “Because, my friend,” Haksel said, drawing the last of the gurshee smoke into his lungs. “There ain’t a hole deep enough to hide in from Glonoff.”

  Chapter 25

  Remnants

  In Raine’s dream, she was back in Shad Amar with Squeak, the mysterious forest deity. Squeak held her in his arms as he trundled through the forest at breakneck speed, whistling and chirping like a calliope.

  “What did the frost giant say to the stone giant?” Squeak asked Raine in the dream.

  “Is this a joke? Am I supposed to know the punch line?”

  “The giant, Raine,” Squeak said with a chuckling burble. “Think on the giant.”

  Raine opened her eyes and stared woozily at the embers of a dying fire. She was under a blanket, and the ground was covered in snow. She licked her lips. She had a vague memory of stinging pain, and then nothing. She frowned. Tiny…there was something she should remember about Tiny.

  She tried to move and felt a jolt of agony from her right wrist. Her hands were bound in front of her and her feet were tied. The pain brought the memories flooding back. Shads—she and Tiny had been set upon by Shads as they were leaving Udom.

  A horrible slurping interrupted her thoughts.

  “Please.” A man groaned. “In the name of ʼGog, please.”

  With an effort, she turned her aching head and spied a twisted form on the other side of the fire. There was so much blood that it took her a moment to process what she was seeing. She was looking at the leader of the Shads, not a hunk of meat. His right arm had been torn off at the shoulder and lay in the snow beside him, a sword still clutched in the mangled hand. There was a gaping hole where his belly used to be. An animal, something large…a mountain lion, maybe, had taken a big bite out of him.

  The fingers of his remaining arm spasmed on the cold ground. “Please,” he said, moving his head back and forth.

  A large leonine creature landed beside the man with a soft thud. The thing was covered in scales, had a barbed tail, and cruel claws. Raine whimpered and the broad, misshapen head turned in her direction, the monster’s burning red eyes fastening on her from across the fire.

  Ignoring the sickening pain from her broken wrist, Raine fumbled under the blanket for the wizard stone at her breasts, but the monster was faster. Springing across the fire, the thing hunkered over her, tail lashing. The creature’s face was grotesque, jaws and jowls smeared with blood and shreds of skin and flesh. Lowering its head, the monster gave Raine a long, lingering sniff, as if she was some delicious treat. The monster’s long, rough tongue shot out and tasted her. His breath was rank and smelled of blood and rotten meat.

  Raine screamed and bucked against the ropes.

  Think on the giant. Squeak’s words percolated through her terror. What did the frost giant say to the stone giant?

  “Squanerfugan,” Raine blurted as the monster opened its jaws for the kill.

  The monster twitched in surprise and drew
back. “What did you say?”

  The rasping growl made Raine feel faint. “S-squanerfugan.”

  “The binding word?” The monster thrust its ghastly face inches from Raine’s. “Who gave you the binding word, huu-man?”

  “None of your business,” Raine said, her mind racing. “I know the word, and that means you have to help me, d-doesn’t it?”

  The monster’s reaction confirmed Raine’s guess. Snarling and slathering with rage, he ran in circles, snapping at his tail in vexation, then raced up the face of the cliff and down again. Raine watched the monster’s gymnastics with dawning dismay. She’d seen claws like this once before, claws that sank into solid rock as if it were putty. Alden had worn them on his boots when he’d climbed the sea wall.

  She was at the mercy of a rock troll.

  The rock troll stalked across the clearing and plopped down beside her. “The huu-man knows the word, so I am bound to help it. What are the terms?”

  “T-terms?”

  “Of service, huu-man.”

  “Well,” Raine said, thinking quickly. “For starters, you can’t eat me.”

  “Done. You are a scrawny morsel, at best.”

  “And I want you to untie me.”

  Raine yelped as the rock troll swiped an enormous paw at her. Snick, his deadly sharp claws sliced through the woolen blanket and the ropes at her hands and feet.

  “Done and done,” the rock troll growled.

  “Thank you.” Holding her broken wrist, Raine got to her feet. “Oh, my God,” she said in a choked voice, looking around.

  She was surrounded by dead men, or what was left of them, their bodies torn and mutilated beyond recognition. The Shads that had captured her, she realized, staring at the shredded uniforms scattered about the camp site.

  The dying man on the ground groaned. With a horrible snarl, the rock troll sprang at him.

  “Leave him alone,” Raine snapped.

  The rock troll stiffened, glaring at her with hot eyes. “What’s the Shad to you?”

  “Nothing. He’s nothing to me. None of them were.”