Scent of Magic

by Maria V. Snyder

  “There’s been a change in plans,” Loren said when we approached. “Since Saul is going with you, Prince Ryne wants me and Flea to stay in camp. The horses are within the forest about a quarter mile straight north of here. Ursan’s body is already secured to one horse, and there are two others for you. Their handler is with them, but he’ll return once you’re under way.”

  I exchanged a glance with Flea. Something was wrong. “What’s going on, Loren?”

  “I’m not sure. Honest. Whatever you told Prince Ryne earlier has agitated him. He said we needed to concentrate our forces at the border.”

  Which meant he believed my theory was possible. A horrified dread churned in my stomach. “Why does he need Flea? He’s been so adamant that I’m protected.” And Flea, as well.

  “He knows you’ll be safe with Saul. And he said, ‘Tell Avry to trust me regarding Flea.’”

  I might not understand Ryne’s motives, but I trusted him. “All right.”

  Loren’s shoulders relaxed, and I almost smiled. The poor guy must have been prepared for a fight.

  “Don’t dawdle. Be back early tomorrow. The horses are fast and can be ridden after dark,” Loren said.

  “Got it,” I said.

  Saul and I said goodbye to Loren and Flea. Despite Ryne’s assurances, I felt a twinge of worry for Flea as we entered the woods. It was probably something I’d have to get used to. Flea couldn’t be by my side all the time after all. I wondered if this was how mothers felt with their children. At least Danny and Zila were safe at Ryne’s castle. Unless the invasion of the tribes wasn’t stopped, which would mean Kerrick... No. I wouldn’t even consider the possibility.

  Before we reached the horses, Saul made a noise and called out in a soothing voice so we wouldn’t startle them. When we approached, the three horses had their heads raised with one ear perked forward and the other cocked back. Their handler—a young man—murmured to them and stroked their necks until they relaxed.

  Ursan’s body had been wrapped in oilskin and draped over the back of a chestnut-colored mare. Saul talked to the handler. The young man bobbed his head, gestured to the saddlebags and then took off. Saul grabbed the reins of the big brown-and-white horse before swinging into the saddle.

  “Hand me the reins of Ursan’s horse,” Saul said. When I hesitated, he shot me a concerned look. “Do you know how to ride?”

  “Uh...sort of.” I moved closer. “My mentor, Tara, taught me the basics back when I was an apprentice.” She had insisted, claiming we might be needed in an emergency and would have to travel fast. Horses were expensive, and my family hadn’t been able to afford to own or even hire one.

  “How long ago?” Saul asked.

  “Five years.”

  “Heck of a time to get reacquainted.”

  I agreed, but since I’d promised Ursan to do all I could for him, I swallowed my anxiety and untied the reins of Ursan’s horse, handing them to Saul. The last horse was all black except for the white on the bottom half of her legs. She looked as if she wore socks. I secured my pack on my back, freed her reins and hopped up into her saddle. She cocked her head to peer at me as I patted her neck.

  “You need to lead,” Saul said. “My hands are full.”

  I pulled the map from my pocket and studied it a moment before spurring my horse into motion, which almost unseated me. With her bumpy, jarring gait, it took effort to gain my balance. Once I felt more secure, I urged her into a faster, smoother rhythm along a footpath.

  Traveling via horseback might be quicker but it certainly wasn’t quieter. Our passage through the woods could probably be heard miles away. Another drawback was locating paths big enough to accommodate the horses. Our route wouldn’t be direct, but at least we were heading northeast, away from enemy lines.

  Soon after we’d set off, the horse broke her stride and stumbled before recovering. Behind me, Saul and Ursan’s horses also shied before settling. I shrugged it off; horses were skittish despite their size.

  As we traveled, I consulted the map from time to time and made adjustments. When we reached the clump of Lilys northeast of Zabin, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows.

  We dismounted. Taking Ursan’s horse close to the Lilys, I helped Saul untie the body, and we lowered him onto the ground. Now I understood the term deadweight. Saul cut the bindings around the oilskin. Even though I was no stranger to death and cadavers, I braced myself as I peeled the cloth back.

  Bone-pale despite the hours he had trained in the sun, Ursan’s skin was damp from the melting ice. Pain throbbed deep inside me. Anger flared. Stupid, stubborn man should have let me heal him. If this worked, I had a few choice words for him.

  “Can you carry him?” I asked Saul.

  “With your assistance.”

  I helped Saul lift Ursan, but once he straightened and settled the body in his arms, he didn’t need me. We walked to the Lilys. Only a single Death Lily grew among three Peace Lilys. We approached the closest Peace Lily and stood underneath its petals. The faint scent of vanilla wafted in the air. Biting my lip, I waited for the giant flower to move.

  Nothing happened.

  “Come on, you helped Flea,” I cried.

  Not even a twitch.

  I grabbed the Lily’s stalk and tried to shake it. The thick green stem didn’t budge.

  Yanking my stiletto from its sheath, I lunged for the Lily, aiming the tip at a petal. But vines snaked around my ankles before I could reach it, tripping me. They continued up my legs and along my arms, stealing my weapon.

  I thrashed, yelled and cursed, but the plant held me tight. Eventually I ran out of steam and wilted.

  Saul had watched my antics with a queasy expression. But he’d remained in place with Ursan.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  The ground around us rumbled alarmingly. The earth heaved, and Saul stepped back as a mound of loose soil grew as if a very energetic dog dug for a bone.

  When the noise died and the dust settled, a deep rectangular hole had opened up at the base of the Peace Lily. Oh, no.

  “You’re supposed to take him, you overgrown weed,” I shouted. “Not bury him.”

  “Wow,” Saul said. “That’s not subtle. Should I...?”

  “No. We’ll find another Lily. Cut me loose.”

  Saul set Ursan down and pulled his sword. But as soon as he came close, the Lily ensnared him in its vines, as well. His sword disappeared into the foliage.

  “Got any more ideas?” he asked.

  “I’m thinking.”

  As I considered, roots from the cavity flowed over the edge, wrapped around Ursan and drew him toward the grave.

  “Think faster,” Saul said.

  But no matter how hard I thought or struggled, there was nothing I could do but watch. After the Peace Lily pulled him in and covered him with a lattice of roots, the dirt mound reversed, filling the hole. Within minutes all that remained was the smooth ground.

  The vines released Saul, but they carried me to the base of the Death Lily, letting go just as its petals encircled me in darkness. The barbs pierced my skin, and I connected with the flower’s soul.

  I demanded answers to Ursan’s rejection. Instead of a reply, memories came to my mind unbidden.

  It was strange to remember past incidents not of my own choosing. Images from my time with Tohon, conversations with Sepp, the death magician, being held by the dead, Danny, Zila and Kerrick all flickered in front of me.

  One memory wasn’t mine. A vision of Kerrick sitting on the ground, cradling me in his arms. My lifeless eyes stared at nothing. Kerrick closed them and then squeezed his own shut as he hunched over me in utter misery. Then my eyes opened. This view had to be from the Death Lily, but why show me? Was it significant?

  Touch.

  The answer hit me. The Peace Lily hadn’t brought me back to life, Kerrick’s touch had. It was the same with Flea. He hadn’t been breathing until I touched him. And why us? Because we had Peace Lily serum in our
veins. However, one wouldn’t work without the other. A person needed both the serum and a touch. But could anyone touch them?

  I asked. No answer. What about Ursan? I could touch him, too.

  Gone too long. The Lily withdrew its barbs and expelled me onto the ground. It took me a moment to gather my wits. I glanced around in the semidarkness. The sun had set, and Saul had built a small fire.

  He hurried over and knelt beside me. “Are you all right? You’re bleeding.” He pointed to my upper arms.

  Blood stained my sleeves. “I’ll be fine.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Saul stood and reached his hand out. I would have grasped it except I held an orange sack in each hand. More of the Death Lily’s toxin sacks. Why? There must be a reason the Lily wanted me to have them. I hoped I’d figure it out.

  “How long was I in the Lily?” I asked.

  “Long enough for me to feed, water and groom the horses,” Saul said. “I also cooked us dinner. You must be starving.”

  “I’m sorry about Ursan. We didn’t get him here fast enough.”

  “At least there’s hope for another.”

  Suddenly exhausted, I sank down next to the fire. “I’ve no idea about the timing. Flea had been dead a couple hours.” According to Kerrick, I’d died inside the Peace Lily. “I don’t think I’ll be able to figure out these Lilys.”

  “Don’t give up. It’s too important.”

  I nodded.

  “We need to leave at dawn. Tomorrow’s midsummer’s day.” Saul handed me a steaming bowl.

  After I ate, Saul offered to take the first shift. I gratefully accepted and fell asleep next to the fire. Tohon’s dead hunted me through my dreams. Saul woke me before they could drag me back to Tohon. I spent my shift pacing around the Lilys, mulling over the significance of its toxin.

  * * *

  Midsummer’s day dawned with another cloudless sky. My horse seemed to understand we were returning home. She chose the path before I could direct her.

  As we neared the camp, we crossed the area that had spooked the horses. This time, the horses broke into a panicked run, bolting as if chased. I took the hint and kept going.

  When we rode into the camp, the horses automatically headed to their barn behind Estrid’s manor house. Something seemed odd, but it wasn’t until after we dismounted and left the horses in the care of their handler that we discovered the reason.

  We rounded the corner of the house and stopped in our tracks. A section of the camp appeared...different. Tents remained, but some of them had toppled and others had rips in their fabric. Trash littered the ground, and the fire pits had been doused. The abandoned area appeared as if a strong storm had swept a path right through it. After a moment, I realized the section was where Ryne’s army was bivouacked.

  I rushed over to Ryne’s tent and entered. It was empty.

  KERRICK

  Midsummer’s day used to be special. It had been the last day of school, and after the graduation ceremonies the students returned home for a two-month break. For Kerrick, it had been a bittersweet day for a number of years—the ones where he’d been in love with Jael. It had meant sixty days without her, but it had been balanced with being home with Belen and his father. His father... Kerrick wondered what King Neil would think of his son’s present circumstances—captured and cooperating with the northern tribes on this glorious midsummer’s day.

  King Neil had always shown Kerrick how to lead by his own example. His father had him attend as many meetings, rulings and visits to the other realms as possible. Kerrick would observe the proceedings. After the session, his father would sit with him and they’d discuss the day’s events, and he would answer questions. That time together had been Kerrick’s favorite. He had his father all to himself, and even when Kerrick disagreed with his father, King Neil had never raised his voice in anger. Kerrick had gotten his temper from his mother.

  The warriors escorting Kerrick and Danny relaxed once they exited the forest and entered the farm fields surrounding Krakowa. Kerrick felt his connection to the living green weaken with every step. When they reached the outskirts of the town, their progress slowed. The tribes had set up tents, and their passage drew a crowd. They stared at Kerrick and Danny with both hostile and curious expressions. Blond-haired children ran alongside them.

  When they reached the edge of the town proper, a warrior waited. He was a head taller and thicker than Noak. He wore a necklace made from jagged snufa teeth, and his long, pure white hair had been braided into two ropes. Despite the age difference, there was no mistaking the resemblance between the two. Father and son.

  Without a word, the older warrior pulled his dadao, strode toward Kerrick and swung the sharp blade. Kerrick braced for the blow, but Noak grabbed his father’s arm, stopping the weapon from slicing into Kerrick’s neck.

  “No prisoners,” the older man said.

  “Come.” Noak led his father away from the others.

  Unable to hear them argue, Kerrick watched their expressions. Noak had saved his life, if only for the moment. His and Danny’s continued existence would depend on who won the discussion.

  Danny wrapped his fingers around Kerrick’s arm. “He’s scarier than Noak.”

  Kerrick glanced down at him. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  A brief grin, then it was gone. “But he’s not scarier than Tohon.”

  “Really?”

  The boy nodded. “The tribesmen are straightforward. They kill their enemies, not turn them into an army of dead soldiers.”

  “True. But if you surrender to Tohon, he won’t kill you.”

  “I’d rather be dead than help Tohon.”

  “Me, too. But what if he threatened to harm Zila?”

  Danny shot him a surprised look.

  “It complicates things, doesn’t it?” Kerrick asked.

  “Yes.” Danny swallowed. “I’m sorry, Kerrick. I shouldn’t—”

  “Stop. Don’t apologize. It’s my fault you’re here. I made the mistake of not sending you back to Orel right away. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And I want you to promise me something.” He didn’t add if we live through the next hour.

  Danny let go of his arm and turned to him with a wary suspicion mixed with fear. “What?”

  Kerrick lowered his voice. “While I gave my word to cooperate, you didn’t. At some point there will be an opportunity for you to escape. I want you to promise me you’ll take it.”

  The boy’s eyes were as wide as an ufa’s just before it pounced. “Where would I go?”

  “South. Cross the Nine Mountains and find Prince Ryne. He needs to know what’s going on.” Kerrick waited a few heartbeats. “Will you do that for me?”

  Danny met his gaze. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Another knot in his chest eased just a bit. However, it didn’t last.

  Their conversation finished, Noak’s father approached Kerrick with his dadao still in hand. He pointed the dangerous weapon at Danny. “You betrayed your people for this boy. Why?”

  Just the same question Kerrick had asked himself a week ago.

  “What you learn from me won’t make a difference in the end. My people have already been warned of your arrival. I failed to stop you from invading my land, but if I can save one boy...then I will.”

  Noak’s father relaxed his arm. The dadao’s tip no longer threatened Danny. He glanced at Noak. “All right. The boy lives.”

  “Do you give your word?” Kerrick asked.

  The man’s full attention slammed into Kerrick. It felt as if he’d been pierced with a thousand daggers of ice.

  “You dare question me?” In a blur of motion, his thick sword cut toward Kerrick’s neck, then stopped. The man lowered his weapon, stepped closer and peered at him. He pointed to the scars on Kerrick’s throat. “Who marked you?”

  “An ufa.” Kerrick’s voice remained steady, despite his racing
heart.

  He grunted and sheathed the dadao. Glaring at Noak, the tribesman turned and strode away. Kerrick blew out the breath he’d been holding. Had his scars just saved him? That would be a bizarre twist of fate, but he’d gladly take it. He knew it was just a matter of time before they killed him. In the meantime, he would do all he could to ensure Danny’s survival.

  Noak barked orders at his men. One dragged Danny away. The boy shot him a terrified look.

  “It’ll be all right,” Kerrick called to him. “Just remember what I’ve told you.”

  Then two grabbed Kerrick and led him deeper into town. The tribes had moved into the abandoned houses and businesses of Krakowa. Their pale skin and clothes stood out among the dark wood and red bricks. It almost seemed fitting. The plague had killed this town and now ghosts lived here.

  His escorts brought him to the jailhouse. They untied his wrists and shoved him into a cell. The door clanged shut behind him. When he turned around, they were gone. Kerrick scanned his surroundings—iron bars, a pallet to sleep on and a slop pot. The place smelled of mildew and musty sweat. Only a few cells occupied the space—all empty except his. He examined his raw and bleeding wrists. A wave of dizziness hit him. He sat on the thin straw-filled mattress. Rubbing his hands over the week’s worth of growth on his cheeks, he wondered how long he’d be incarcerated.

  The last time, he’d been locked up for two weeks. Two miserable weeks worried about Avry. He still was concerned about her, but by now Ryne and the monkeys should be with her and protecting her—if she’d let them. Had the war with Tohon started? Kerrick stretched out on the bed. Better to recover his strength than to fret about things he couldn’t control.

  * * *

  Danny woke him later that afternoon. Sunlight streamed in through the one barred window. The boy stood between two warriors. He held Kerrick’s pack along with his own.

  “What’s going on?” Kerrick asked Danny.