Battle Magic

by Tamora Pierce

  He did other exercises while Rosethorn and Briar prepared more thorn balls and Evvy more disks of flint and quartz. Off and on they would look up to see him kicking and punching into the air, spinning to kick at the side, or to lash out with a fist so fast it was a blur. Finally he came over to the fire with one of his packs and settled in to sharpen his belt knife.

  Rosethorn gave him the cup of tea that was steeping beside her. “This should help those aching muscles,” she explained.

  As night fell, Briar drew the line of ponies and mules closer to their camp. Evvy gathered her pack with her extra gate stones and created the enclosure where all of them would sleep. At first, Parahan balked at the thought of sleeping as part of a pile with the others.

  Briar waited until Rosethorn went off into the dark to explain about her lungs, and how she needed all the warmth they could give now that they were in colder lands. “We did it sometimes on our way to Gyongxe, when sleeping alone didn’t keep us warm enough. She’d start coughing otherwise,” he explained.

  When she returned, and Parahan and Evvy had gone in separate directions for the last errands of the night, Briar had to cajole Rosethorn into sleeping at the center of the huddle that would include Evvy, the cats, Parahan, and himself. At first Rosethorn insisted on taking an outside position with Parahan.

  The big man, overhearing as he returned, said flatly, “We need every one of us at their best in the morning, woman. You may sleep on the outside and freeze tomorrow night, if we’re alive and free.”

  Rosethorn stared at Parahan for a long, worrisome moment, and then placed her bedroll on the ground. Parahan proceeded to bank the fire. Briar wondered if he ought to say he would pray for the man in the fight to come, or something of the sort. In the end, he simply put his own bedroll next to Rosethorn’s and crawled into it. Evvy chose Rosethorn’s free side and Parahan Briar’s. Rosethorn went to sprinkle her herb circle around the camp, including the ponies and mules. It was something she’d done several times on their way east: create a kind of magical curtain that hid them from any predator, human or animal, that might come by. Once the circle was finished, she murmured her spell over it, and returned to wriggle into her bedroll. Only then did the cats fit themselves into every comfortable spot that they could find.

  Briar was drifting off when Parahan said, “Why don’t we take the border at night? If we muffle all our clanking things, we might just sneak past. They’ll expect us during the day. We could avoid a fight completely.”

  Briar yawned. “We can’t do it.”

  When Parahan spoke, he sounded peeved. “I may only be a simple soldier, not an educated nanshur, but I’m sure if you do it in small words, you can explain it to me in a way I can understand. Why should we not try the strategically far more sensible move of attempting the border crossing by night?”

  Briar growled. He was tired and he was worried about the border just like everyone else. “We’re plant mages, oh strategist.”

  “Stop it, you two,” Evvy complained.

  “Plants require sunlight. Surely even simple soldiers know that,” Briar went on, ignoring Evvy. Parahan might be a prince, and a warrior, but he wasn’t going to bully them into trying something when Rosethorn was not at her best. He also didn’t need to know Rosethorn’s secrets.

  It was Rosethorn, of course, who ruined it by telling the truth. “He’s only half lying, Parahan,” she said. “I don’t see as well in the dark as I used to. I was … ill, six years ago. It’s why I speak as I do, and why I have trouble catching my breath the higher we go, and why my night vision is limited.”

  “She died,” Evvy said with relish. “Briar and his sisters went to the Deadlands and brought her back, only she left part of her speech and her breath and her sight there as a promise to the White Jade God that she would return.”

  Parahan’s voice was shaky when he spoke again. “That’s a story, isn’t it?”

  “It is not,” Rosethorn said. “I nearly died of the Blue Pox. We leave in the morning. Now go to sleep.”

  That was the end of the night’s conversation. They settled between the banked fire and the picketed mules and ponies, warm with their blankets, cats, and one another. Their night was so undisturbed that Parahan’s only complaint in the morning was that Monster snored.

  The road was empty. None of them was happy with that, though they found no other signs of trouble. Eagles and buzzards soared overhead searching for a meal. In the distance they saw a herd of goats moving on a looming hillside.

  As the hours passed, the lands ahead on their side of the river began to flatten. By mid-morning they noticed distant fields off to their right and the kind of isolated barns used for sheltering herds and storing hay.

  It was almost noon when they crested a rise in the road. Before them a small river had cut a little flat-bottomed valley to the north as it hurried to join the Snow Serpent on their left. A quarter of a mile away and to the north, a walled town stood on the sloping hills that shaped the western side of the valley. Near it were grain fields and herds of the large, shaggy cattle known as yaks.

  Where the road and the smaller river met, there stood a guard- and tollhouse. It was built like the local dwellings, two stories tall and curving inward from ground to flat roof. The shutters were open on the narrow windows since it was a sunny day. Ivory plaster covered every chink in the walls. It was bigger than most of the houses and there was a watchtower on the roof. A couple of horses grazed in a fenced-in field at the side of the building. If this place was like others in this area, Briar figured, the stables would be on the ground floor.

  One soldier in imperial livery stood by the barrier on the road. Four more lounged on benches on the side of the guardhouse. Briar squinted against the sunlight that shone into his eyes. A flag on the tower snapped in the wind. All he could tell was the color, a bright, imperial yellow. “Border crossing?” he guessed.

  Two of the seated warriors rose and took up halberds that leaned against the guardhouse. The other two gathered quivers and crossbows that had been on the ground next to their feet, slinging the quivers onto their backs before they stood to set a quarrel in their crossbows.

  “I think so,” Parahan replied.

  Rosethorn and Briar double-checked the slings on their chests. Their seed bombs lay ready. Their mage kits were open and strapped tight on the saddles in front of them, in case they were needed. Evvy was leading the pack mules. She had her own cloth sling ready, with disks of quartz and flint ready for use.

  “This may be nothing,” Rosethorn cautioned.

  They said no more until they were within shouting distance of the guard on the barrier. He was a strongly built older man who kept all of his attention on their small party.

  “Hello!” Parahan cried cheerfully. “It must be a dull day for you fellows with no one else on the road!”

  “Halt for inspection!” the oldest man shouted back. “In the name of our glorious emperor!”

  “Gladly,” Parahan called, not slowing his pace forward. “Only, would you ask your fellows there to lower their crossbows? My wife is in the family way, and they’re making her nervous.”

  “Rogue,” muttered Rosethorn.

  “Your endearments make me yearn for our nights together, my sweetest,” Parahan whispered.

  Briar choked, trying not to laugh aloud, as Rosethorn turned crimson. “How can you joke at a time like this?” she demanded.

  “If not at a time like this, when?” Parahan asked.

  Briar fingered the cloth balls in his sling, skipping from the killer thorns to the ropey ones. He supposed Rosethorn would want him to use the ropes, though the thorns would ensure that none of these people followed them into Gyongxe. If the emperor was declaring war after all, why should they care if they broke the laws of the border?

  But Rosethorn would care if Briar killed anyone he didn’t absolutely have to. He wondered if she’d discussed that issue with Parahan.

  “Halt!” shouted the leader again. “D
ismount and raise your hands.”

  “Is there a problem, sirs? As I have said, my wife is in a delicate condition,” Parahan called. They were crossing the bridge over the lesser river. “Get ready,” he told his companions once they reached the other side. “Stop right here. If we get any closer they’ll win the fight.” He swiftly brought down the top of his staff and removed the cap, sliding the wooden tube into the front of his tunic.

  “You answer to the descriptions of criminals wanted by the emperor!” cried the leader. “Put down your weapons, dismount, and kneel!”

  The crossbow archers leveled their weapons at their group. Evvy snapped two pieces of quartz into the air. They flew straight at the archers, who threw up their hands to protect their eyes. Their weapons clattered to the ground. Their bolts began to sprout leaves.

  The commander shouted an order. The archers grabbed their bows and put fresh bolts from their quivers to the string. The men with halberds ran toward Rosethorn and Evvy, who had moved to the right to deal with anyone who came from the house. Rosethorn whispered something to the cloth ball in her hand and threw it at the spearmen. It burst as it struck the ground, throwing its burden of seeds into the air. Vines that went from thread-like to thick shot from the ground at their feet. They wrapped around the spearmen’s feet and crawled up around their legs.

  Briar trotted his pony forward. The crossbow bolt that came for him dropped to the ground and sprouted roots. The second bolt struck a disk of quartz in midair and fell to the ground. The disk returned to Evvy. Briar didn’t thank her. He had gotten close enough to throw his own ball of seed where he wanted it to go. It landed between the two archers and exploded into thorny growth.

  The older soldier, the one in command, had unsheathed his sword and run forward the moment the archers released their second round of bolts. He met Parahan’s spear with his sword, baring his teeth in a growl.

  For a moment Briar stared as Parahan blazed into action. The big man reversed his spear. He slammed the butt end up under the commander’s jaw hard enough to break it, then swept it down, jamming it into the side of the soldier’s right knee. The Yanjingyi man’s leg buckled. He slashed sidelong at Parahan, but the bigger man had continued his motion, smacking the staff of his spear hard into the back of the soldier’s head. The Yanjingyi man hit the ground and rolled away from Parahan.

  Briar could look no longer. More yells were coming from the direction of the guardhouse. Four soldiers spilled out of it, wiping their mouths on their sleeves or fumbling with weapons. Evvy pitched a ball at the fresh arrivals as if she played at ninepins. It was quartz, the size of both of her fists, and it rolled swiftly across the flat ground toward the new soldiers. They didn’t see it until it reached them and exploded into a number of sharp stone needles.

  The four men split apart. Two fell screaming to the ground. They tried blindly to pull the sharp stone slivers from their faces. The third ran toward Parahan and one toward Rosethorn, both drawing their swords. Rosethorn pointed to some of the vines that had completely covered the two spearmen near their bench. The green ropes reached for the swordsman who came at her and grabbed him by the throat.

  Briar looked for the mules. Evvy had them on a long rein with one end tied to her waist. Doesn’t she know they could pull her out of the saddle? he thought, panicked. He dismounted and ran back to the animals, who were on the verge of panic. Digging in a pocket, he found the handful of calming herbs he’d put there. Carefully he blew some over each animal’s nose until they had lost that white ring around their eyes. He checked on Evvy again. She was steadfast next to Rosethorn. They waited for the enemy’s next attack, Evvy with a second stone ball in her hand, Rosethorn with another thorny vine ball in hers.

  Parahan seized the commander’s sword and dagger and turned to greet a soldier who rushed him, a sword in his fist. The big man was grinning, his teeth bright against his brown skin. The soldier who had come to attack him halted just out of reach, his sword at the ready. Parahan feinted to the side. The soldier was stupid enough to swing that way, bringing his weapon up to guard. He never saw Parahan cut his head off.

  Evvy glanced at movement in the windows on the second floor of the guardhouse. Archers hung out of two of them. She reached into her sling and brought out two flint circles, handling them carefully. Briar only had a moment to register their color before she sent first one, then the next, flying through the air just as she had the rounds of quartz. They flew straight at the archers. One circle embedded itself in the archer’s chest. He vanished from view. The other circle struck the second archer as he lowered his crossbow after shooting. His bolt went over Rosethorn’s head and narrowly missed a peacefully grazing mule. The dark circle the girl had thrown hit the archer’s throat. He pitched forward, out of the window, and lay still on the ground.

  At last everything was quiet except for the soft roar of the river and a hawk’s distant shriek.

  Parahan wiped his mouth on his wrist and groped at his waist for his water flask. It startled him and his companions to see that his belt had fallen off, cut in two by the commander. His flask had gotten trampled at some point. He looked at the women and Briar, confused.

  “Wait,” Briar called. He took his own flask over to the big man.

  “Thanks,” Parahan said. He set the sword he had taken on the ground, gulped half of the water, and then poured the rest over his head.

  “Were they waiting for us?” Rosethorn asked.

  Parahan shrugged.

  Briar saw sheets of paper flutter under a stone near where the commander of the soldiers had first been standing. He wandered over and pulled them out from under the stone. He couldn’t read the Yanjingyi writing under the drawings on each paper, but the pictures were perfectly clear: Parahan on one; Evvy, Rosethorn, and Briar on the other. He gave them to Rosethorn, then went to make certain that the mules were unharmed.

  Rosethorn remained in the saddle, watching the guardhouse. Once she had looked at the papers, she stuffed them in the sling on her chest and took out more thorn balls, just in case.

  Evvy dismounted from her pony. She let the reins trail so the animal wouldn’t wander, then trudged toward the guardhouse.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rosethorn called.

  Evvy looked back at her. “Are you joking? Do you know how long it takes me to knap an edge on those flint pieces so I can throw them just right? I don’t think I’m going to find more flint here, either.” She looked at the fallen archer, gulped, and bent down to pry the dark stone circle from his throat.

  Parahan followed and took it from her fingers to wipe it clean on the dead man’s clothing. “Beetle dung. It is flint,” he said. “I’ll get the other one, Evumeimei. You wait here.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Briar told Rosethorn. “Evvy, come watch the mules.” He waited until Evvy took the reins before he ran into the guardhouse after Parahan.

  The downstairs was empty of animals except for chickens on their nests. Upstairs was the main living room. Midday for the guards sat half eaten on a long table. Pallets were rolled up and stacked in a corner. The archer who had fallen inside lay in a heap on the floor, plucking at the flint circle stuck in his chest.

  Parahan killed him with a sword thrust. “We can’t have them reporting who did this,” he told Briar. He retrieved Evvy’s second flint circle and wiped it off. “Perhaps you shouldn’t tell Rosethorn, though.”

  Briar grimaced. Rosethorn would not like to hear of the killing of a wounded man, but Parahan was right. “We’d best get out of here, then, before the townsfolk come.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Ouch!”

  Briar saw that the big man was sucking blood off a fingertip. “Oh, sorry. Those things are nasty sharp.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and slid the circle from Parahan’s hold. Carefully he wrapped the flint and put it in his sling, but even so, he could see it was cutting through the linen of the handkerchief. Evvy owed him a fresh one.

  As they went d
own the ladder, Parahan said, “I confess, even with their magic, I am … impressed with how strong-hearted our ladies are in battle. Will they need time to calm themselves? We can’t linger — the herd boys will report trouble here to the town.”

  When they went outside, they found that Rosethorn had tethered her pony. She had managed to catch one of the horses and saddled and bridled it. From the length of the stirrups, she meant the brown gelding for Parahan. “Are you finished?” she asked them. “Because I would like to put some distance between us and this, now.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Briar said. To Parahan he said, “See? She’s calm.” He skittered out of the way when Rosethorn mimed a swat at him. Smiling, Briar took Evvy the flint disk Parahan had recovered. She tucked it into the pocket with the other flint after wiping off the last traces of blood. Briar said nothing to her about the vomit he could see a few yards away. Evvy never faltered in battle, but blood still set her back on occasion.

  Moving quickly but without fuss, Parahan resupplied himself from the dead soldiers until he had two swords, a belt, an iron-covered leather jerkin, and leather boots that fit. After testing a couple of the spears used by the Yanjingyi guards, he fashioned a quiver for them and his spear, and slung it across his back. Evvy found a spare water bottle for him. She and Briar swiftly searched the food packs for some kind of midday meal before they swung into their own saddles.

  The four of them shared out cold rice balls wrapped in leaves and cold red-bean buns. As they were about to leave, Rosethorn trotted her pony by the open windows and tossed two of her thorn balls inside. Vines began to sprout through the doors and windows as she joined the other three on the road. Chickens erupted from their side of the house, squawking in alarm.

  As they moved on, Briar tossed a thorn ball of his own onto the road behind them. In the house, spiked vines were shooting out of the upper windows. Those vines that grew from where dead men lay now crawled over the ground, snake-like, bound to meet their friends in the guardhouse. There was no sign of bodies anywhere. The vines had spread to cover them all.