The Way Into Magic: Book Two of The Great Way

by Harry Connolly

  Tejohn started for the doorway, his shield high and his short sword low and point-forward. The older couple crowding the doorway retreated from him, pulling the little children with them.

  There was no grunt inside. Tejohn had to stop himself from sighing in relief.

  Inside were the five soldiers, including the one who had been struck senseless--he appeared to have managed a miraculous recovery once the curse was upon him. There was also an older couple with the gray hair, sun-wrinkled skin, and ropey muscles that come from a lifetime of farm labor. Behind them was a stout young woman of about thirty. She had charge of three children: a boy and girl too young to be out of dresses, and the six-year-old girl Tejohn had already seen.

  The farmhouse was one large room, with a pit of sand in the center where the owners cooked their meals. There were leather balls in one corner and a pair of cloth dolls in a crude wooden raft. Children’s toys. An ancient trident hung above a workbench, which Tejohn assumed to be a spoil of war. Tridents came from Espileth, in the Simblin lands, and no Simblin would have been permitted to settle in Finstel lands.

  Tejohn tried to figure if the old couple were the owners of the house or if it might have been the stout woman. Not that it mattered now.

  “You’ll have to do it,” the female soldier said. “We five swore an oath to each other that we would not let the creature’s curse take us, but now that we are here, we can do nothing. The curse stays our hand; we can’t harm ourselves or each other.”

  “I’ll make it clean and quick,” Tejohn assured them, “if you’ll let me.”

  “Thank you,” she said. The other soldiers thanked him, then the older couple. The stout woman said, “Blessing,” then clenched her fist in frustration. The curse was growing strong inside her, saying its name.

  “We’ll have to take the little ones away first,” Javien said, “before you transform and hurt them.”

  That startled them. “We couldn’t hurt them,” a soldier said. Was this the skilled fighter? Tejohn couldn’t recognize him. “We couldn’t hurt them any more than we could hurt each other.”

  No.

  Javien didn’t understand. “Not now, no, but if you change suddenly, you’ll be mad with starvation. That’s how it works, yes? Once you stop being human, you won’t be able to help yourself. We need to get them away from you before that happens.”

  “You don’t understand,” the old man said.

  The stout woman bent to the little boy sitting listless by her feet. “They have been blessed just like blessing.” She lifted the hem of his dress.

  There was a nasty red puncture mark on his thigh. He--and all the children--had been bitten, too.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Tejohn blurted out. “They’re so small! What sort of grunt could they get from a tiny child?”

  “A full-grown one,” the old farmer said. “They’re all full-sized. The first to be bitten on our property was a debt child who worked in our farm. No more than nine, she was, the lazy little thing. She was all bless bless bless at the end, and when she changed she just split apart. A full-sized monster burst out of her.”

  Tejohn suddenly felt terribly cold. “What happened to her? To this grunt?”

  The old man nodded toward the fire still burning outside. “You just put her out of her misery.”

  I killed a child, Tejohn thought. I killed a child. A grunt. A child. I knew the things had been human once, but a child?

  His legs felt weak and his head swam for a moment. He, of all people, had just murdered someone’s child.

  And he was going to have to do it again.

  Chapter 18

  The pain was sharp and sudden. Cazia cried out, her voice echoing through the chill night air. Harsh laughter sounded from the walls.

  Ivy caught hold of Cazia’s wrist, bumping the point of the arrow and levering two knuckles apart. Cazia cried out again, which brought more laughter from the darkness to the south. They sounded like wild dogs, and Cazia was suddenly aware that her cries of pain would be like a beacon to the predatory beasts of the wilderness.

  “What is it?” Kinz asked, sounding very annoyed.

  “An arrow!” Ivy exclaimed. “They shot an arrow at us. Cazia saved my life.”

  A second buzzing noise came toward them; the girls ducked low and scrambled away from the wall. They heard impacts against the ground around them; the guards were shooting more arrows.

  They scrambled through the muddy, uneven terrain. Ivy wouldn’t let go of Cazia’s arm, and it was difficult for her to keep her balance in the darkness.

  “What are they making to do?” Kinz demanded. “I understand Toal. You told them who you are. Are the Ergoll at war with the Toal?”

  “No!” Ivy said, sounding almost desperate. “No, they can not be. The Alliance has ways of dealing with disagreements that come well short of war, and Kelvijinian would never allow us to waste our strength that way, not when we have so many enemies pressing in on us.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Cazia stopped running. She had to pry her wrist out of Ivy’s grip. “That’s what I want to know. Why are Alliance troops shooting at a member of the royal family?”

  “I do not know! Oh, Cazia, I am so sorry! Those men would have killed me if you had not acted.” Ivy grabbed her hand again and held it up. “What made you do it?”

  “I’m not sure.” That, at least, was true. “I saw and heard something, and I just… I’m not sure. What are the chances that I can find a sleepstone nearby?”

  “Bad,” Kinz said. “Peradaini devils never make them this far east. Er, I am sorry about that. It is an old habit.”

  “Fire take it,” Cazia snapped. “I don’t care if you call me a devil. How far to the nearest sleepstone?”

  “On foot? With an injury? Twenty days. Maybe more.”

  “No, Cazia, we can not.” Ivy’s voice was hushed. “That would take us too close to that fort—What was the name of that place again?”

  Monument sustain her, the princess was right. “Samsit.”

  “Yes, Fort Samsit. The grunts were running wild there three months ago. Do you think some of them have come north? Into the Sweeps?”

  “Yes,” Cazia said. There might be grunts just a few hundred paces away right now, stalking the wilderness, trying to find the source of her screams. “Yes, I do. We need to find cover. We don’t want one of Mother’s people to swoop down on us out of nowhere before she’s had a chance to spread the word. And we don’t want a grunt to come upon us in the dark.”

  The half-moon had risen high enough for Cazia to make out a stand of trees on a low hill to the east. They made for it quietly. The jeering from the fort had stopped, probably under orders.

  Kinz said something about wanting to climb into the trees, but the trunks were narrow and slender--not much for climbing, even if Cazia could use both of her hands. They would have to take their chances with the grunts, grass lions, and whatever other beasts hunted the night.

  They sat without talking for once. Cazia wished fervently that they could risk a fire. She was hungry and dispirited, and her hand throbbed. Had they really risked their lives in the Qorr Valley just to be attacked by her own--well, she shouldn’t call them her people. They were Indregai Alliance soldiers, and they were technically her enemy. What’s more, they were apparently in the habit of shooting at little girls, so Fire could take the lot of them.

  Still, after her clashes with The Blessing, the Tilkilit, and whatever Mother’s people called themselves, it made her heartsick to come so close to actual humans again only to be driven away.

  Ivy moved close and rested her head on her shoulder. “Is this uncomfortable?”

  She had settled on Cazia’s uninjured side. “No, it’s good. I’m sorry that we’re still stuck out here.”

  “It is just one night.” She nestled in as though she wanted to sleep. “Did I thank you for saving my life? Thank you.”

  “That’s what I promised you, remember? Back in S
amsit before we fled into the wilderness. I promised to protect you.”

  “From the tyrs,” Ivy answered. “Not from my own people.”

  Cazia shifted her injured hand. It didn’t lessen the pain at all. “Maybe I should have been more specific.”

  They laughed together, quietly. Ivy held out her hand to Kinz, who shifted to the trunk they were leaning against and settled in on Ivy’s other side. “I should keep watch,” she protested.

  “Why?” Cazia said. “We have no weapons and no magic. If a grass lion comes upon us now, there would be nothing we could do.”

  “Grass lions make their hunt during the day,” Kinz said. “We should worry about other things.”

  There was a tension in her voice that Cazia couldn’t place. “I’m sorry I said wilderness. I know it’s your home, but... Habit. It’s just stupid habit.”

  “We should make to put our differences aside,” Kinz said. “We must. Whatever crimes have been committed in the past, we must turn away from them. If we do not, all of our peoples will be overwhelmed.”

  Crimes. Cazia tried to shift her hand again but the pain was too much. Ivy, her “little sister,” had nearly been murdered, and now Cazia was badly hurt with no access to healing magic. The whole situation made her feel so helpless, and so filled with useless frustrated rage at the soldiers on the wall of the fort. Was this how it felt to be attacked by Peradaini soldiers?

  What if they’d shot a second arrow and killed Ivy? Cazia squeezed the girl’s hand, trying not to imagine the grief and burning desire for revenge she would feel.

  Kinz had a right to call them crimes, and she had a right to her anger and hate. And to think Cazia had made a fuss over the words tributes and taxes in a world full of wounded, grieving people. “Yes.” She couldn’t say more for fear of being sick into the grass.

  Ivy said, “Agreed. Should we take out the arrow?”

  “No,” Kinz answered. “If you are sure we will be allowed into the fort at sunrise, we should wait. Arrows make to be tricky. If we did the wrong thing, that hand might be made the amputation.”

  “Little sister,” Cazia began nervously. She almost didn’t want to have this conversation because she was afraid of what she would learn. “Little sister, what treatments do your people have for injuries like mine? Will they be able to heal me?”

  The way the princess hesitated before answering scared Cazia more than her answer. “We do not have healing magic, obviously. All we can offer is clean bandages, tinctures, and herbs, plus some exercises that will help you regain your strength. I--Cazia, are you worried that you will not be able to do magic again?”

  “I am. I’m very worried about that.” That ended their conversation.

  In the end, they slept. Cazia did not expect to sleep, but they all did. Cazia’s injury woke her several times.

  They rose with the sun. Cazia felt as though she hadn’t rested at all, but at least she had been able to pass the night in slumber rather than sitting up fretting. She stood carefully; her hand felt as though it had swollen around the arrow shaft like a clenching fist. If the pain had been bright and sharp last night, now it was dull, throbbing, and awful. Pain like this could make her hate the entire world.

  “Oh!” Ivy exclaimed. They turned together and saw what she was pointing at. Piles of tiny stones had been arranged on the ground not four paces from where they’d slept.

  “Inzu’s Breath,” Kinz exclaimed, then rushed forward.

  “Wait!” Cazia called, and the girl halted. “The lakeboys do this, don’t they?”

  “They do. The next night they make the attack. Very dangerous.”

  “But delicious,” Cazia said, remembering the last time they’d had a conversation about the creatures Cazia’s people called alligaunts. She moved toward the piles. She’d seen this briefly before they’d crossed into Qorr. That time had been right at the water’s edge, but this one was at least fifty paces from the nearest streambed.

  “It is a display and threat,” Kinz said. “They are stones like cairn stones. I could not make to explain this to you the first time.”

  Cazia didn’t say because you were pretending we didn’t speak the same language. They were putting the past behind them.

  They didn’t look like cairn stones, though. They were little piles, starting with one pebble atop another, then three leaning together, then four with a fifth balanced on top. The next had seven stones in a jumble. It was just as she remembered it. She moved to the last pile and counted thirteen stones.

  “Some animals swallow stones,” Ivy said. “They help with digestion--until they pass them out.”

  Ugh. Pass them out? Cazia had handled the stones. “No,” she said. “These came from a streambed, not some animal’s guts. Look, there’s a pattern here.”

  “The pattern is a threat.” Kinz began kicking over the piles. “This is my land. My people know how to deal with these things. We must make to move away or be attacked tonight.”

  “I know what you are thinking,” Ivy said. “We could talk to the birds and to the bug soldiers. Why not the alligaunts, too?”

  “Exactly.”

  “No,” Kinz insisted. “We know these creatures. They have been here for many generations. They do not have the society. They do not think. They only hunt and kill.”

  “And make odd patterns.”

  “It is the threat.” Kinz’s expression was obstinate. “The way for them to make mark of their territory, like the dog that lifts its leg.”

  Ivy turned south toward the fort. “It does not matter. Today, we take Cazia into the fort to be cared for. And break our fasts. And to send word to my father and mother.”

  They started across the muddy ground toward the rough timber gate. “Remember to tell the altered story.” Kinz said. “We may be separated when we make to tell what we have done.”

  “The soldiers at Fort Whune are Toal.” Ivy took hold of Cazia’s good arm to support her. “They are staunch allies and good fighters, but they are also arrogant.”

  “Elder brothers,” Cazia said. It was hard to focus on the uneven ground and Ivy’s words; her injured hand was too huge in her mind.

  Ivy said, “More than that. They believe themselves to be the seed of the Indregai peoples, and often treat other kings like my father as if they were the grown sons. Do you see what I mean? Equals in power but not wisdom or respect.”

  Cazia gave her a look.

  “I know how it sounds,” Ivy said, her cheeks flushing red. “I do. But I can speak for you if we are among the Ergoll. I’m still very young, but my voice will be heard. If nothing else, they might feel indebted for the good you have done for me, and my mother has always indulged me if I pester her enough. But we must convince them our story is true or you will not be free.”

  Cazia took the translation stone from her pocket and tossed it away. She should have traded it to Mother after all. “Now I have no darts, no robes, no enchanted gem. Anything that would identify me as a devil is… Kinz, touch a Tilkilit stone to me again, please.”

  She did. Kinz and Ivy kept glancing back as they walked. Cazia wasn’t sure if they were mentally marking the spot or fighting the urge to run back for it immediately. Whichever it was, they kept a steady pace toward the fort.

  When they were close enough, Cazia was surprised to see that the fort’s defenses were more complex than they’d seemed in the darkness. The walls were rough timber, yes, but where they joined the mountainside was steep rock. Also, a slowly trickling waterfall ran down the eastern cliff face into the muddy ground before the wall. The current wasn’t strong enough to sweep away their enemies, but it did fill a broad, deep pool lined with stones.

  A moat, Ivy called it. It was forty feet wide, and the only way to cross it was to stand on a stone platform that protruded over the water and wait for them to lower the drawbridge, a gate with its hinges at the bottom.

  What’s more, the walls and drawbridge were topped with small bronze spikes no longer than Cazia�
�s little finger.

  Midway up the wall, she spotted tall slots between the timbers where archers could take their shots. Atop the wall they could see six archers and the odd blank white banners that the Alliance troops preferred.

  “Ivy,” Kinz whispered harshly, “do not get ahead of us.”

  The princess did not take that advice. As they walked out onto the promontory, one of the archers shouted before Ivy could speak. Cazia couldn’t understand their language, of course.

  The comment brought another round of raucous laughter. Cazia saw movement in the arrow slits. If one of the archers atop the wall bent their bow at Ivy, they would have warning enough to flee. If one of those hidden behind the wall shot at them, they would not know it until the arrow was on its deadly flight.

  Ivy called back to them, and Cazia wished she had kept the translation stone. She couldn’t understand anything except for the full version of the princess’s name. The guard and the princess shouted back and forth several times.

  Kinz finally noticed Cazia’s distressed expression. “They do not believe her,” she explained. “They are saying we make fine servants for fetching back their arrow, but they are demanding payment before they allow us inside.”

  Of course they were. Cazia looked off to the east. Could they simply flee down the Sweeps all the way to the ocean? Would that bring them to safety, finally?

  After several exchanges, one of the archers nocked an arrow. Without shields or cover of any kind, the girls would have no choice but to run away. Again.

  The princess was in no mood to retreat again, it seemed. When she saw the archer, she raised her voice and began shouting short, sharp phrases.

  Kinz turned a mournful expression toward Cazia. “Now she’s insulting their courage, their ancestry, and their entire clan.”

  Cazia held her injured hand close to her chest. She expected more arrows any moment, but they never came. The archer never bent his bow, and within a few moments, a man with a white plume sticking out of his bronze helmet came to the edge of the wall. He shouted something that almost sounded respectful. Ivy shouted back, and the drawbridge began to lower.