The Zi'veyn

by Kim Wedlock

  His attention returned to the mage, whom Eyila was managing to restrain. "What's she saying?"

  She shook her head in confusion. "'Where is it?'" She turned her troubled eyes up towards him and found him looking back with the same unspoken concern, though neither of them were sure where those concerns lead.

  Anthis looked critically at the woman - for it appeared she was - and saw her white, dry lips, gaunt cheeks and wild eyes. "She's dehydrated," he surmised. "And quite probably hallucinating." He took out his waterskin and handed it to the tribal. She duly unstoppered it and gently poured its meagre contents into the mage's mouth, but she was shaking her head all the while. He looked between the two doubtful casters. "What is it?" He frowned. "What can you two sense?"

  "This isn't dehydration," Rathen replied as the mage cried out in exasperation and shook Eyila off, spitting the water back out, and he stepped forwards to restrain her himself. "Not exclusively, anyway."

  "Is it magic?" The young man's heart jumped as a thought landed as heavily upon him as a two tonne boulder. "It's magic, isn't it?" His face drained. "She's losing control - we need to get away from her!"

  "No," Rathen growled, "we can--"

  "Where is it?!" The frail young woman, worn down and aged by the desert, mustered the energy from nowhere to throw off even Rathen's grip and stagger to her feet. "Tell me where it is!"

  Garon readied his sword while the others took a wary step back. "Put that down," Rathen snapped, then turned back to the frantic mage, raising his hands and splaying his fingers to show the absence of weapon or spell. "Calm down," he said slowly, "and tell us what you're looking for."

  "It's out here," she replied shakily, "I can feel it, I know it's here - I'm getting closer all the time, closer and closer and closer...and..."

  "To what?" Eyila asked just as carefully.

  "But I keep losing it!" She spun around, her severely sun-burned face twisting in sudden desperation, and her eyes when they grazed them were distant. She was looking for nothing tangible. And that only sharpened the dread building in Rathen's gut. "Where is it? Where is it?!" She spun again before stumbling in a random direction, certainly not the one she'd been heading in but one she seemed compelled beyond any reasoning to follow. She pushed Rathen off as he reached out for her again.

  "Enough!" Eyila cried, and with far rougher handling, she threw the woman back down to the sands, doing away with concern for her frailty.

  "Get back, Eyila!"

  "Garon, put that damned sword down!" Rathen hissed. He did his best not to upset the mage any further, who now sat crying hysterically though she seemed physically incapable of producing tears, but the inquisitor's sudden aggression towards her inexplicably insulted him.

  "She is dangerous," he replied coldly. "And I think you both know that better than I do."

  Rathen knotted his jaw, unable to argue though he certainly wanted to, but as he opened his mouth to explain that he was not helping the situation, something dark and urgent jolted through his mind, snatching his attention away. "Get back!" He cried instead, even as he shoved Garon and Anthis away while Eyila had already reacted, and little bursts of light began popping in the air.

  The crying-cackling mage leapt once again to her feet. The sparks were focused around her.

  Garon immediately prepared to jump back ahead of them with his sword in hand, and even Anthis reached for his sheathed knife in his panic, but Rathen and Eyila only stared and watched, paralysed in shock.

  The woman's mad eyes were blind to the world around her. Whatever she saw, only she could say, and again something ensnared her attention and compelled her to chase it. No one called her to stop, even as she stumbled chaotically through the sand, threatening to break or twist her ankles, and lights continued to flash and crackle around her. Her laughter grew louder and more desperate the further she fled, unwavering even as she tripped and crawled a few paces before pushing herself clumsily back to her feet to continue, unfazed.

  Anthis gasped as fire flared around her, but still neither mage tried to stop her, and neither could they pull their eyes away nor slow their rampant heart beats.

  She scrambled up a dune, battling against the cascading sand to make her way to the top. But she didn't reach the peak.

  In that final moment, Rathen and Eyila found the strength and compulsion to look away, while the rest bore witness to the violent eruption of fire, lightning and something indescribable which muffled a deadly scream of relief.

  Then the desert fell silent once again.

  Garon, Anthis and Petra, who had remained behind and shielded Aria from the sight, found themselves unable to do anything but stare wide-eyed in disturbed disbelief through the blinding strength of the flash. Rathen stared at a spot on the ground instead, and Eyila did much the same, though she shook and hiccuped in the meantime as tears of shock streamed down her bronze cheeks.

  They were still and silent for what felt like an age before Aria's tentative voice rose from behind them all, though she made no attempt to peer around Petra's hand.

  "I don't know what happened," her father replied, but it took him another long moment to finally turn his head back towards the crest of the dune to gain some kind of answer for himself.

  His blood froze in an instant, and a heat of nausea to rival that of the desert weighed like lead in his stomach.

  The dune in question had been shorn in two, and a dark form rested in its scar, half-covered in sand.

  He swallowed hard and forced his feet to move despite his gut screaming for him to turn around and walk away. He didn't want to know what had happened, and he certainly didn't want to see the result. But at the same time, he needed to. This was something, he feared, he needed to understand.

  He paused beside Eyila and gently squeezed her bare shoulder, and as she dragged her heavy gaze from the ground to look up at him, he saw that same sentiment. He continued on, and with a deep breath, she turned and followed.

  The body was smouldering as he approached, charred and blackened by the spontaneous explosion, but the longer he looked at it, searching for details despite his better judgement, he noticed that it and the surrounding sand wasn't just black, but a sickeningly deep red. His stomach turned as he realised just what he was looking at, and he balled up his fists to stop his hands from shaking.

  Eyila made not a sound as she stopped beside him and observed the same thing, and he had to commend her strength. All the more so when she knelt down beside the corpse and looked even closer than he.

  Anthis, however, released a short string of curses when he and Garon arrived behind her, the latter still tightly gripping his sword, and all three of them tightened up and cringed as Eyila reached towards a charred arm and gently spread the skin with her thumb and forefinger. She nodded to herself. "The veins," she began quietly, having regained regular breathing though a few tears still fell, "they've ruptured."

  "The veins?" Garon frowned, daring to look a little closer.

  "And the arteries. And when her skin burned, it weakened and split." She moved over and clinically pressed her finger tips across the chest before stopping and nodding again. "The heart, too. There's a greater concentration of blood over it."

  "What does that mean?" Anthis asked impatiently, but as he glanced towards Rathen, he found that his usually grim countenance had drained of all colour. Anthis similarly paled. "Is this what happened to the others? The ones you said lost control?"

  Words evaded him, but he managed to shake his head in uncertainty.

  Rathen was terrified. He had felt something within the mage, an instability, a tremor in her magic. It was minor, something any other mage would have been hard pushed to notice, but his isolation from other casters had apparently made him more sensitive to such details - he had felt every change in Eyila's magic since she'd joined them and knew when she was preparing to cast a spell even before she formed the signs. And so this woman's trouble had stuck out like a sore thumb even before he'd laid eyes on her. Her ma
gic had jumped and spiked chaotically, but not once had she cast a spell. Not even at the end. And he doubted she could have had she wanted to.

  His eyes dragged towards Eyila, who he suspected was attuned in the same way. She had noticed the mage in the same moment he had, and she had been aware that something wasn't right. But he doubted she was making as much sense of it as he was, and even then he felt as if he was clutching a handful of straws.

  Garon was suddenly in front of him, his dull, grey eyes urgent. "Is this related to the magic?" He asked bluntly, and at that moment, Rathen could think of no other explanation.

  He nodded, then amended: "I don't know, not for certain..."

  "Are you at risk of this?" Anthis asked, and Rathen didn't miss the note of accusation in his voice.

  "I don't know," he snarled back at him.

  "Then we're all at risk in your damned company!"

  "That may well be true," Garon agreed carefully, silencing Rathen before he could spit a defence, "but we need him with us." He sheathed his sword and looked between the two of them, noting not for the first time the charge that coursed between them. He sighed and straightened, then looked down to the tribal girl as she rose to her feet. "Do you make anything of it?"

  "Something disturbed her magic," she replied with a final deep, steadying breath. "Traders from Ivaea have told us of events like this, but it is well known that Ivaea does not hold its mages highly. We assumed they were just stories driven by hatred - that their mistrust of mages was reaching new heights and they wanted everyone else to agree with them, or that the mages had had enough of being treated so poorly and were fighting back."

  "You listen to news outside your tribe?"

  She frowned at Anthis in confusion and his eyes shifted nervously away. "Of course we do. Your conflicts affect us. We don't live on our own little island, safe from the actions of others." She looked back to Garon. "But the stories never sat right with me." The body shortly dragged her attention back, and she observed it quietly for a moment. "And you think this is related to what's happening to Ut'hala?"

  "It could be," Rathen replied, having equally steadied himself, "but to what end, I don't know..." He turned and looked back towards Petra. She had turned Aria's back to them, and though she was embracing her, she stared over towards them all the while.

  Rathen started towards her. "Let's go. We've got three days of ground to cover."

  The others slowly followed, though Anthis glanced doubtfully back towards the body left lying in the heat of the desert sun. He watched with interest for a moment as Eyila made a series of quick gestures that didn't appear to be spells, and muttered a few alien words beneath her breath. Then she, too, turned and followed, leaving the body where it was. She seemed to have no qualms about it, and though he wondered then what her people did with their dead in the desert, he kept it to himself.

  Rathen thanked Petra and took Aria by the hand, and though both were filled with questions, they didn't voice them, either. They returned to their camp and disassembled it before continuing through the desert under a deeply troubled silence.

  Chapter 39

  Salus sat on the cold, stone ground, his feet falling into the floor, the crown of his head floating, and his face as relaxed as he could coax it. These preliminary steps were tedious and seemed to cause him more tension than calm, but Denek wouldn't even begin to help him if he didn't play to his ridiculous rituals, so he humoured him and focused instead on the end result.

  Though that end result seemed leagues out of his grasp.

  He was more rigid than usual that afternoon and felt little hope for any kind of success. For several hours over the past three days he had been in Denek's irritating company, and despite the promising start on that very first attempt, there had since been no progress at all. And that wasn't in his head. Even the mage was expressing exasperation, and that didn't help him attain the peaceful state the mage insisted was necessary in order to reach the lost and tangled place his magic dwelled.

  But that state presently felt just as distant.

  He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not when he heard Teagan's voice from the other side of the prison bars, but he answered it eagerly, eliciting a sigh of frustration from his impatient tutor when he rose to his feet, thanked him mildly for his time and left through the clattering door, which was then locked swiftly behind him.

  "You're finished?" Teagan asked as Salus indicated for him to walk.

  "For now," he sighed. "What is it?" He was handed a report, and growled through barred teeth as he read. "Doana." He almost tore the parchment as he folded it.

  "They've moved deeper into Turunda and they've spread out."

  "And these two are probably just the start of a second assault." Salus's lip curled. "If we'd affected their numbers at all, they wouldn't have acted until reinforcements had arrived."

  "Assuming they know we've destroyed some of their units..."

  His expression worsened. "They know." He handed the parchment back as they left the cellar and started through the short, dark tunnels. "Send two phidipans and a portian to Bridgend. Have them take it back by any means."

  "Moore will be dispatching platoons--"

  "It will take too long." His brusque tone rang in the rounded acoustics. "Bridgend is wrapped up in magic and we can't risk any mages getting to it, Doanan or not, or it could end up shattered like Halen. Never mind what else they might have planned to have targeted the town in the first place."

  Teagan studied him through the torchlight as they walked. Salus glanced expectantly, feeling the weight of his eyes. "Moore will still dispatch. Should you not speak with Malson first?"

  The keliceran scoffed. "It will take too long," he repeated. "Get it done."

  The portian nodded obediently. "And what of Emberton?"

  "Leave that to the military."

  Now Teagan frowned. "Surely Emberton is a priority? Their smiths arm the military, the Hall, the guards..."

  "Yes, and that also means that Moore will consider it a priority, too." Salus folded his arms, straightened and lifted his chin a fraction. Teagan knew that to mean he was done with the subject, but he found it curious that he'd responded as calmly as he had. "What of the Order?"

  "They're hiding in their House. There's been no unusual activity reported."

  "That means nothing where magic is concerned. Keep watching them."

  "Of course."

  Salus stopped him as they reached the old wooden door at the end of the passage and looked at him severely. "What of Karth and Koraaz?"

  Teagan shook his head. "No change. They're moving steadily deeper into the desert."

  Salus barred his teeth. "What are they on to...?" His wandering eyes flicked back to him. "How far behind is Hower?"

  "He's been on them for days." He noted Salus's expression loosen the slightest in hope. "He's not uncovered anything of use, but he's keeping them in his sights. But the inquisitor is vigilant."

  "Is he aware of Hower?"

  "Hower doesn't believe so, he's just being careful. They've left a mess in their wake; caused trouble in a number of places, drawn attention to themselves and even provoked harpies into tracking them. Though they seem to have retreated since they crossed into the desert. That, coupled with passing through tribal land, it makes sense that he'd be watchful."

  "Mhm." Salus looked thoughtful. "And the tribal girl is still with them?

  "She is. She seems to be leading them somewhere - a ruin in the desert most likely, but the rest of her tribe would know for certain. One of their own leaving with a group of outsiders would be known to all of them; none would be unaware of the details."

  "They wouldn't, would they..." Salus pondered on that for a moment, then shook his head. "If Hower's on their tail, there's no need to approach them. Stick with the original plans."

  "Salus."

  The use of his name without ten minutes of nagging surprised him, and he noticed in that same moment the very slight crease in his
favoured's brow.

  "Are you certain about this?"

  He almost smiled. "Teagan, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were having doubts."

  "It's just as well you know better, then. I merely wonder if there isn't another way to handle this - one more subtle."

  "More subtle, perhaps, but not as effective." He turned away, finished with the matter, and opened the door. The light that poured in from the house atrium was blinding despite the doorway standing out of sight in a dark corner, but even with such seclusion, all within the vicinity were aware of its silent opening, even if none looked towards it.

  The two stepped out into the open, but though Teagan paid just as little attention to everyone else, he noticed Salus look about thoughtfully as if searching for someone. "Where is Taliel?" He asked with a little too much nonchalance.

  "In Mokhan."

  His head snapped around, and something flashed briefly through his eyes. "Mokhan?"

  "Was it wrong of me to send her?"

  Salus stared at him as his wide eyes revealed a slow train of thought. "No," he said at last. "No, not at all. She's capable, and the mages aren't moving... They wouldn't strike Mokhan again, there would be little purpose to it. And the watch there has been raised. They're too vigilant for that to happen again..."

  Teagan studied him again. "What is it?"

  "Nothing at all, Teagan, I'm fine," he replied tiresomely, waving his concern away, then started purposefully towards the staircase and, ultimately, his accursed office. "Now come; let's sort out this most latest catastrophe."

  The portian frowned after him for his increasing distraction, but his obedience was silent while Salus led the way, and the keliceran quickly lost himself in thought.

  That Hower had found them was a relief. Ties had been cut with Drassa following Teagan's advice, and while Anthis had remained their best option all along, he was now their only option, even if he was working with the Order. But if they managed to get a hold of his notes, they would finally be on level ground with the infernal mages, and if Hower continued to trail him, they would get ahead before he could report any of his findings back to his employers. And if Salus's own magic insisted on keeping out of his reach, then for the time being, he would have to consider this a minor victory instead. That Hower had managed to find them at all after they had apparently disappeared outside of Carenna was a mix of good fortune and skill in itself, and though he loathed luck as an ally, for it could rarely be counted upon, if it decided in its fickle nature to work with him, he would accept its fleeting help. Warily.