by Scott Rhine
****
Komiko joined Corrie at the center of the spell with three pouches of charged pearls and scarves.
“Want to trade places?” joked the witch.
“Problems?” asked the disowned mother.
“The tents arrived late, leaving even less time to perform the ceremony. The stress made the charging of the wards difficult for everyone. Surprisingly, Frond finished first. I’m going to have to bring him in as a guest instructor. Put these scarves in your hair, one from each couple. I added them as an afterthought. Only three circles were lit when I saw the ships on the horizon. I brought them in case that’s all we get.”
“How did you see them with that storm blowing in? Clouds are blocking the Compass Star.”
“The blue flashes.”
“Lightning?”
“No, fire mages, getting ready to burn the yacht or our town the moment they’re in range.”
“Osos, I hope Pagaose makes it,” said Corrie, chewing the edge off her expensive, gold-limned manicure.
“You really do care for him.”
“It happens, even among the nobles,” Corrie said, drawing herself upright again. “What about the others? Will they be ready? At this rate of approach, he’s going to be at least fifteen bits early.”
“We haven’t told the others students yet. No sense inhibiting performance further.”
A white flare lit the circle to their immediate south, closest to the enemy. “Two to go. Who are they?”
“Lord Skyfall, a wizard with a midlife-confidence problem, and Nightglow.”
Corrie pulled out a pouch. “Take this to the wizard; he and his wife will probably be talking when you arrive. Give him this. Tell him only a small snort in each nostril; not too much or it will be painful for his partner.”
“It actually makes him bigger?”
“No. It relieves pain quickly and smells nice. I brought it in case Ember needed more soothing than wine could provide.”
“Aww. How thoughtful.”
“Humph. Show your appreciation with a little playacting. When you deliver the medicine, argue with Ember where the couple can hear you. Pretend the drug is so powerful for men that both of you want to help. Lady Skyfall is very competitive, and that should help goad her creativity.”
“You are wicked. I respect that.”
The corner of Corrie’s mouth quirked up a hair. “And Nightglow?”
“Her first ward took almost an hour. She has a couple points to go. I’m guessing she’s having trust issues, or Niftkin needs some practice using his tongue for something other than talking.”
“We don’t have time for that. Tell Nightglow that the marriage isn’t legally binding until registered with the clerk of courts and that I absolutely forbid her to do anything with that man till morning. Then mention that some of Lord Pinetto’s examples on the last page will probably be banned by the purity committee.”
“So she likes being a bad girl?”
“She loves flouting authority and getting away with it.”
Komiko laughed. “You’re helping an unlanded, sweaty soldier who’s going to be unemployed in less than an hour violate your daughter?”
“I’m helping my emperor win a battle and my daughter find a man who loves her for who she is. Nightglow hasn’t told him all her secrets yet. He’ll be Lord Niftkin by morning. Don’t get me wrong; if he ever so much as looks at another woman, I’ll arrange crippling stomach cramps for him. If he cheats, I’ll teach her how to kill him in a way that will look accidental.”
“Right. I won’t mention that part during the ceremony.”
****
“We’ll pass the dueling platform in five bits,” the yacht’s pilot shouted over the wind.
“We’re too early,” complained Pagaose.
“We’ll be lucky to make dock by the time they get into the harbor.”
The emperor saw a ward flare in the distance. “Erase our ship wards, now,” he commanded the surfers and musicians. “I’ll get the one at the bow.”
Serog landed on the dueling platform and spoke in his mind, My protection ends past this point, once you enter your home waters.
“How long after we tie off to the shipwreck will the enemy enter the harbor?” asked the emperor.
The men debated, eventually settling on, “Fifteen bits tops, sire.”
“Not enough time to get to sleep,” Pagaose said cryptically.
The dragoness watched him from a distance as they sailed into the well-lit harbor. Whatever happened tonight, they wouldn’t catch the defenders of Center sleeping.
When Pagaose arrived at the wreck in the center, the tent on the deck of the orphan ship was flapping like a pennant. Komiko wore her trademark oilskin, and Majah he recognized from her ponytail and northern-style dress. Together, the two young women were trying to spike down the rogue corner. By the lamplight leaking from the tent, he could make out Corrie’s face, smeared with black streaks of makeup and dye. Her wet clothes clung to her shivering body.
He charged to the tent, scooping Corrie along with him. She melted into his side. “Gods, even in all this, you’re warm.”
Pagaose ordered the men, “Stand with your backs to the tent. Whatever happens, don’t let anyone interfere with the ceremony.” The women joined him inside.
With the tent flap tied shut, the wind noise was more bearable, but the lamps still danced. A wooden crate held down a stack of blankets, keeping them from blowing away. A small coal brazier with incense burned to one side. Komiko told him, “Sire, the pearls at the corners are a resonance point for each couple. Since they’re her pearls, and she’s wearing the rest of the necklace, I think similarity will be established. So you can reach more easily, we’ve tied scarves from each woman into the lady’s hair. Picture the meta-ward and bite down on her necklace as you . . . um . . . power the . . .”
“I know the rest; what’s wrong?”
“Sire, I have offered myself to you before, but I am of no more help this night. All magical energy in me has been used up by this casting. I can barely stand.”
“You don’t have the equipment to do that with Ember.”
“I took her virtue, and she mine. The spell would not complete any other way.”
The emperor blinked. “I suppose others have bled tonight and may bleed still. It should not shock me so, but the sacrifice does not go unappreciated. I keep my promises; you and Ember are officially my concubines, with no obligation to perform.”
The witch bowed.
Corrie began shedding her wet clothes. “The pearls were mine anyway. I will be the best focus.”
“What of Nightglow?” asked Pagaose.
“Disqualified,” said Komiko.
He experienced an irrational surge of joy.
“But the scarves were mine,” countered Majah, glaring at the older woman.
The emperor stepped between the women. “Now I have a quandary. The tent must be taken down. I have to see the glowing wards in the distance to build my geometry, but that means everyone with a telescope or dragon’s eyes might see our casting.”
He looked at Corrie, remembering the warning in the Song of Serog. I will eat the heart of Osos. Whoever the dragon saw him with would be a target. He longed to explain to his dream lover, but couldn’t. His words might carry or some sleeper might speak them where the dragon could hear. “I would not defile any woman so publicly.”
Corrie choked out a sob. “Sire? You know I would endure anything for you.”
“I do, but I could not bear anyone else seeing you so.”
“Am I that old and unflattering?”
Majah smirked. “If he’s too nice to say it, I will.”
Komiko glared at the young girl. “Nonsense, I want a body like Corrie’s when I’m her age . . . That didn’t come out right.”
Pagaose held out his hand to Corrie. “Please return the bird carving.”
With the anguish of ripping off a bandage, she removed the ornate piece of s
tone that she’d come to think of jewelry gifted to her from a lover.
The girl said, “I remind you of our deal and how advantageous it would be for you to claim me tonight. Another virgin sacrifice might be just the energy your ceremony needs to light up this whole harbor.”
“Deal?” asked Corrie.
The emperor bit his lip. He didn’t want the dragon hearing this either. “Later. All of you leave this platform. Hurry.” The men obeyed. Only Corrie lingered. He pointed sternly to the yacht. “Keep your eyes turned away from this ship while I link the circles.”
“Alone?” Corrie asked from the deck of the yacht.
“The first two levels rely on the man in the woman, united. The third level will require the divine.”
She could see the blue fires on the deck of the warship approaching the harbor. “What if you fail? They could kill you.”
Pagaose sat in the center with his legs crossed in meditation style. He cleared his mind and reached for the first coiled bracelet, a woman’s. The wash of lust was overpowering. Even though he had no love for Majah, it would have been so easy to take the girl with this drive. He tasted the sex echoes like a mountain stream and let the rest flow into the Eog bird. He focused on the lit ward in the distance and said the names of the couple. “You are my circle. We are one.” He slid the adjustable bracelet onto his own ankle.
He repeated the ritual with the next bracelet. On the third, he sensed a difference in the energy, and several missed attempts. Komiko and Ember loved each other like a butterfly loved a flower. They were powerful casters and he drank in their offering. The bird glowed with a soft, blue light. Having completed an entire triangle, he locked that shape in his mind. “The power of the woman protects this harbor.” The first triangle flared.
The fourth bracelet was Frond, a love old as it was tender. He recognized the echoes without even reading the name. The fifth bracelet was frantic and the energy made Pagaose feel ten feet tall with the power of prana. He was a giant and the woman was an extension of his body. Holding the pattern became difficult with such impulses coursing through his body. If he released it now, he could blast a hole in the enemy ship. No! He needed the ships whole.
The final bracelet was Niftkin. His bride was so beautiful that he could barely restrain his own release. He felt the power building like a dam about to turn into a raging waterfall. The bird figurine was smoking. Between gritted teeth, Pagaose said, “The power of the man protects this harbor.”
The second triangle lit. Now for the hard part.
A fierce, cold wind assaulted him, but he needed the pain to focus. He shouted above the howling. “I call on the Door, the Compass Star, and the One True Sword.” He visualized a vertical triangle between these points and the spot on his forehead burned. The frigid rain prevented his skin from catching fire. “The power of the gods protects this harbor.”
The rain turned into hail that danced on the wooden deck. The wind tore at his clothes and threatened to carry him into the waves. He sank his sword into the center, through the unbreakable bowl. The resulting screech sounded like a chorus of women screaming in the distance, wailing for their lost lovers. Heat from the sword melted the hailstones at his feet.
Ears overloaded, he pictured the final shape of three interlocking, unbreakable wards. He fed the awesome power of the second drop of the Traveler’s blood into the image to bring it into existence. “That they may know that you sent me to rule this place.”
The force of the successful ward charging snapped the chain on the wire-ward necklace and propelled it skyward too fast to see. At first he thought the floating pearl had fallen to the ground, but a new rip that traveled up his shirt, and a scratch on his right pectoral, told him otherwise.
The lead enemy ship veered left against the pilot’s will. The one beside it bent right. Both fought to avoid destruction. He could feel the dome of resistance around him.
What have you done? Serog mind-shouted. The winds halted, and he collapsed to his knees. The resistance had been keeping him upright.
“I have sealed this harbor against your armies,” he whispered. Somehow, she heard.
Perhaps, but you give up your greatest weapon. Your sword must remain in that wood or the spell breaks. You or the new bearer must remain in the circle with it, she gloated.
“My will is iron.” He saw black spots before his eyes and the lights whirled, making him nauseous. “I have already won by distracting you.” In truth, he needed her busy for a few more hours to ensure the grain arrived, but he knew he wouldn’t be conscious long.
From what?
“As soon as your daughter reaches the Tamarind River, she will consummate with her favored—my student and the sheriff who bound you, Tashi.” The shipwreck bucked in the angry waves as the dragon raced southward, roaring.
“Forgive me,” he said, collapsing to his knees on the deck.
Chapter 33 – Curses
Tashi clenched the Defender of the Realm, ready for any excuse to free it from the scabbard. The blade wanted to be used. Apart from the spear fisherman, the prison recruits were sleeping in the hold. He kept watch over the Mallard while Pinetto chatted with his great-uncle Conifer on the prow of the ship. The wizard announced, “In a couple of bits, we should be in the clear.”
Lord Conifer asked, “How did you like Center?”
“Unbalanced.”
“Granted. How so?”
“I offered them the secrets of the universe, the teachings of the gods, and all they were interested in was petty jealousy and sex magic.”
Tashi chuckled. “Think how the emperor feels. He taught you a fraction of what he knows.”
Pinetto stiffened.
“What is it?” asked the swordsman.
The scream of rage from the sky turned Conifer’s face white. Pinetto sent up a flare so they could all see the source. The Defender leapt into Tashi’s hand.
When the dragoness landed on the prow, the ship tipped forward slightly. Tashi interceded between Serog and the old man. “Take him to the wheelhouse; she wants me.”
He held his pose, feeling the hatred roiling off her. He heard Sarajah shout his name. He told her, “Stay. This is between your mother and me.” He heard the wheelhouse door shut, for all the good it would do. The ward might hold her back till dawn.
“You would fight me again, sheriff?” dared the dragoness.
With effort that made veins stand out on his arm, he sheathed the Defender. “I would not harm the mother of my beloved.”
Serog huffed, pulling her gums back to show her long, pointed teeth. “I wish to harm you.”
“You won’t,” he said, drawing a cleansing breath. “You’ve granted me passage. I guard your daughter with my lives. If you slay this body, I will find my way back with the next; however, the pain would cripple you.”
“You mock!”
He shook his head slowly. “Test me.”
“You were to ask my permission before crossing my domain. I demand a sign of obeisance.”
He knelt, vulnerable.
“Ask for my daughter’s hand like a man,” the dragon hissed.
“I humbly request your blessing on my . . . union with Sarajah.”
“Free me.”
Tashi shook his head. He heard Sarajah whimper in fear. He snapped. “This is my battle!” Staring into the jeweled eye of the stone-colored dragon, he said, “No. You have not proven your repentance. How many people have you killed this week alone? The price is too great.”
Holding out his left arm, he bowed his head. “Take my left hand for this incarnation and let there be peace between us for your daughter’s sake.”
“No!” mother and daughter shouted at once.
Sarajah opened the door and a sudden wind slammed it shut again, trapping her inside. The dragon took his left hand in her foreclaw. “What if the hand isn’t enough?”
“Take what you will, as long as the loss doesn’t kill me,” Tashi said, not looking.
The dragon’s puffing sounds slowed. “Your demonstration of love and bravery has spared your life.”
Tashi sighed and relaxed.
The other foreclaw jammed into his groin and he choked back a cry of pain as the barest tip penetrated his flesh. She bent her head to whisper in his ear. “But it’s not right that you get what you want while I suffer. So you get the curse instead.”
He felt the twisting inside that meant the changing. It was far from any Door, but the ancient dragon was skilled at the art of shaping and full of mana. The alteration was a minor one.
As she whispered, his insides writhed. “Until I walk the shores of men freely, you shall never enjoy my daughter Sarajah. Any other woman will be twice as pleasurable, but your manhood will not hold touching her.”
Sweat poured off him, and he held his jaw clamped tightly.
“So mote it be.”
She released him, and Tashi collapsed to the deck. “We’ll see how sane you stay wanting something that badly.” Serog laughed and departed the ship.
****
Sarajah swore as she and Pinetto laid Tashi out on the metal-plate roof to heal. The wizard adjusted the special lenses. The wound had sealed, but the black mark remained. They left Tashi on the roof to rest while they returned to the wheelhouse. Sarajah said, “It’s a curse of some kind. I couldn’t hear the details, and he won’t talk about it yet. I can’t believe the fool agreed to her terms.”
Pinetto stammered, “M-maybe at the seam in your kingdom, you could counter—”
“She’s a goddess and has millennia more experience than I.”
Pinetto looked down. “He loves you that much. We’ve pretty much established that he has no self-preservation instinct.”
“Everything conspires against us.”
“The emperor can find a way to fix it when we reach Center again.”
She glared at him. “You’re the finest of friends, but if I hear that cheerful tone again tonight, I swear I’ll slap it off.”
“Right. The sun’s almost up, and some of us have a ship to steer through hostile waters. We’ll keep to the Bablios side of the Tamarind River; we don’t want another confrontation so soon.”