by Tia Reed
“Erok,” he said, pointing at himself after she had placed her stones in a neat line five paces from where they sat. He pointed at her.
“Kordahla,” she said, and then pointed at the boy. “Timak.”
“Brax,” Erok said, pointing at his friend, who was filling their water bladders from the stream. The smaller man sniffed, and nodded. Erok poked a stick into a fish on the embers and handed it to her. It was the most delectable meal she had ever eaten. She didn’t even care Erok and Brax raised voices in disagreement – over what to do with Timak and her, she was sure.
“Myklaan,” she said when they fell quiet. If they recognised the name, they might understand she was asking for a guide.
“Myklaan?” Erok said in surprise. He plucked a blade of grass, popped one end into his mouth and closed one eye.
“Myklaan,” she repeated, firm.
The way he wriggled his arms may have meant a rough journey, over high hills. She knew it was a long one.
Timak crept over while Erok and Brax conferred. In his silent way, he dug a packet out of an inner pocket in his kurta, and held it to her.
“You still have that?” She wasn’t able to imagine how.
Timak just kept holding it out.
She took the packet, laying light fingers on his shoulder before she remembered his aversion to touch. At least the child no longer flinched. That kindled a warmth that transcended the pity she had felt until now.
“We can pay our way,” Kordahla said, standing. She held out the packet. Erok’s offhanded acceptance offended her. She was used to obsequious courtiers bowing repeatedly for the most trivial of her gestures, and here she was bestowing with her own hand a prize for which the Hill Tribe travelled leagues.
“It’s porrin,” she said with a haughtiness Father would have thought unbecoming. Erok seemed to recognise the word. He opened the packet and shook the unmistakeable red powder inside. “Will it pay for a guide to Myklaan?”
A jab in her back pushed her to her knees. Brax exploded into a flurry of angry words as his foot sent her sprawling into the dirt. She rolled over to see his spear poised above her heart. Only Erok’s quick hand averted the stab she had no doubt was meant to kill. A furious exchange ended with Brax spitting close to where she lay. There was no mistaking Erok’s dark countenance as she dragged herself up, or Brax’s fury as he manhandled Timak to her side and shouted at his friend.
Erok shook the contents of the packet to the ground. The powder dusted the earth red. Erok was, she noticed, intent on her reaction. If the drug did not secure safe passage through the hills, it meant nothing to her. She lifted her chin, gathered what dignity she could, and looked him in the eye.
“You have made it quite clear how you feel about the cursed bliss.” She took Timak’s hand and walked along the stream. The water, shallow as it ran, should not have roared. Nor should the trees have shuddered, knitting their branches into a roof to blot the light of day. This place was cursed, these people fearsome. She hurried to be free of this haunted valley, where yellow eyes shone from dark hollows. Somehow, they would make it to the plain on their own.
The Hill Tribe men had other ideas. Brax shouted. The next thing she knew, he had bounded in front of them, his spear levelled at her midriff. She turned to see that Erok had assumed a similar pose. He gestured them to the right. They walked on, blistered feet, weak knees, tight chests and all. The points of the hunter’s spears remained raised.
Chapter Thirty-four
The clang of iron alerted Vinsant to the presence of a visitor. Hopping off the stools, which had made a tolerable bed if he did say so himself, he waited at attention.
“Good morning, Majoria,” he greeted when Levi came into view. He had done his best to sound completely respectful and not at all smug. If he stood slightly straighter than normal, his chest thrust out and his shoulders back, Levi might presume it was because of the respectful soldier’s pose he adopted rather than pride in the feat of working magic with absolutely no instruction at all. Even Levi would have to admit he made an impeccable soldier, unflinching as drops splattered to the mucky floor around him, or hit him on the head.
The slight movement of the Majoria’s head as he took in the stools betrayed his surprise. His gloved hand paused on the door of the dungeon when the latch clicked free. Vinsant took a deep, expectant breath as the Majoria swung the door open and entered the damp cell. It didn’t look like he had lost any sleep over locking his star pupil in the dungeon. Beneath his hood, his moustache was impeccable, and his black eyes bright with rest.
“Why is your robe not on?” The Majoria asked.
Vinsant’s face fell. The oversized garment had made a better blanket than sleeping robe. The slime-stained hem had draped so far over the last stool, he hadn’t even noticed it was wet. He cursed himself for not remembering to don it. Snatching the robe from across the stools, he fumbled to work his arms into it.
“Leave it,” the Majoria said, and beckoned a mahktashaan who had been waiting in the shadows. The mahktashaan offered Vinsant a blue robe of perfect size.
“Eh, blue?” Vinsant asked when he pulled it over his head.
“You are not yet a mahktashaan, nor will you ever be if you do not lose your pride. Pull up your hood, and see that it stays there.”
In a robe, not the churidar kurta of the apprentices, he was having considerable difficulty being anything but proud. “Shall I report to Branak for training?” Just let Naikil and Gram see him today. He would conjure a stool to sit on while they flung their practice swords about.
Levi pointed at the stools. “You will return each one to the Inn of the Shadow Hound, where the owner is currently complaining about mischievous djinn.”
“Huh?”
“Objects cannot be conjured from thin air. I expect better of my apprentices than to steal from those working hard to make a living.”
Vinsant, muttering about how nobody gave him credit for remaining in a stinking hole when he could have walked free, found himself tying stools to a horse as Naikil and Gram snorted at him while trying to land ineffectual blows on each other. Even leading a pack animal, it took him two trips, since Levi had forbidden his mahktashaan escort to help in any way.
The sunny inn boasted an ordered arrangement of tables. A veiled barmaid kept her eyes off them as she brushed the crumbs off the smooth tops and picked up fallen mugs. The turbaned innkeeper, not aware to whom he really spoke but made quite aware of Vinsant’s apprentice status by the guards, let him have a piece of his mind. “If you could let me know I’ll be losing my furniture before it happens in future, my patrons would appreciate not finding themselves on their backsides in puddles of ale.”
Vinsant was glad the trepidation the mahktashaan inspired prevented him from saying more. “That won’t be a problem,” he replied, noticing how dry his mouth had become from the morning’s work. “Eh, could we have an ale before we’re on our way?”
The spoilsport mahktashaan turned him around and herded him out before the keeper could reply.
“Impudent imp,” he heard the barmaid say behind him.
Respect, it seemed, was an elusive lesson. Too elusive to contemplate on the ride back to the palace when children were clambering the walls of twisting streets to watch the mysterious mahktashaan ride past.
No sooner had he walked his horse into the outer courtyard and dismounted than Levi bade him follow into the palace and down the post and lintel halls to the boat room.
“Where are we going now?”
“Do you forget your sentence?”
The Crystalite Mines? Right now? “Don’t I get to say goodbye to Father and Arun? And I haven’t had breakfast yet.” That was the last time he was going to take Levi at his literal word when he insisted righting a wrong was the first order of the day. Just to prove how deeply he was suffering, Vinsant’s stomach rumbled with all the rebellion of an unbroken stallion.
They walked down the steps to the water.
“T
he Minoria left early this morning, and the Shah was not idle in yesterday’s words. You will return when matters are set to right.”
That could, in his estimation, be moons, years even if Kordahla was lucky. “Um, wasn’t the punishment for an eight-day?”
“This is a pilgrimage as much as a punishment, Apprentice Vinsant. There are mysteries for you to contemplate. If you are to progress in your studies, you will carry out my every last instruction to the letter. The first is for you to remain silent unless you are addressed.”
“Yes, Majoria,” he said, stepping into a boat, and wondering how he was ever going to learn anything. He was beginning to think he would have to tell Kordahla she had been right about Levi, if he ever saw her again.
The gatekeeper winched up the outer portcullis and they glided onto Lake Sheraz where fishing boats skedaddled out of their way. Though the air hung limp, the boat propelled itself forward with unnatural speed. Vinsant sat back and enjoyed the cruise through the long stretch of silence, his thoughts drifting to the feats of magic he would use to astound the realm. All for the good of Terlaan, of course.
His excitement when Levi made him recount his experiences with Mahktos was barely containable. It fizzled to disappointment when Levi permitted him no questions. At least he had the benefit of Arun’s insight. When they both returned, he would make sure he cornered the Minoria and tricked, begged or commanded him into divulging more mahktashaan secrets.
In the middle of the lake, where the palace was so far it could only be discerned as a speck, the quartz around his neck began to throb. It was awesome, the way it glowed from within, but not so much the way it grew hotter and hotter. He held the leather strap to lift it off his chest.
“Majoria? Why is my quartz glowing?”
Levi, who had been facing forward, turned and stared.
“Do you seek to work magic? Without permission?”
“No. I wasn’t doing anything,” Vinsant said, juggling the swinging quartz. “Nothing like last night, anyway.”
“Clear your mind,” Levi snapped.
Vinsant pretended to sit in calm while his mind churned. Nothing changed. Levi had to be mega powerful because he enclosed the quartz in his hand without a sizzle of singed flesh. Not all-powerful, though, because when he let the quartz go, its inner light was brighter. The Majoria closed his eyes and hummed. The quartz drifted up and pulled towards the lake. Deep below the water, reddish light throbbed in unison with the quartz. It was so far down, it was a tinge in the depths, but it called to his quartz, pulling it from his neck.
“Majoria? Uh, Majoria.”
The quartz was dragging him to the side. “No,” said Vinsant, wrestling as best he could with the hot stone. He was not going to lose this piece of quartz. He was not going to go back to Mahktos and admit his incompetence.
“Majoria!”
They were right on top of the light now. The quartz jerked and Vinsant tumbled over the side of the boat. Water splashed onto Levi. Droplets sizzled into steam as they fell on his quartz. The lake closed over his head. Below him the light pulsed, white with a heart of red. It beckoned to his quartz, tugging, tugging hard. He would not lose it, not if it meant he had to drag whatever was emitting the light from the bottom of the lake. He swam down. Down so far. His lungs burning. His heart thumping. His chest wanted to flatten. His mouth fought to open. He was never going to reach it, let alone resurface. He strained against the quartz, managed to halt his descent, and kicked back up. The red light tugged so hard, his steady strokes brought him no closer to daylight.
Mahktos, no, please no. This wasn’t fair. His survival couldn’t depend on wriggling free of the quartz. Taking hold of the stone, he bowed his head out of it and kicked for the surface. The strap started slipping through his fingers. He was going to lose all his dreams. Mahktos! The lake parted over his head. He gasped and gasped as he rose between the walls of water. They crashed together below him as he cleared the surface and lay suspended in the air. Levi was standing at the stern with perfect balance, a hand raised towards him. The Majoria beckoned, and Vinsant’s body swung over the boat, hung for a moment, then thudded to the planks. Heaving in air, he flipped the quartz back over his neck. It was all he could do to put a hand on the gunwale and drag himself up far enough to see over the edge. The waters were smooth. They were past the cursed spot, and the pull was weakening. So too was the heat and light.
“D-d-did you s-see that?” he asked Levi, his teeth chattering. The afternoon sun scorched, but he was chilled to the bone.
The Majoria picked up his quartz. The stone was inert.
“There was a light. It tugged at my quartz,” Vinsant said, feeling a need to explain, though Levi ought to be explaining things to him.
“Silence!” Erect once more, the Majoria raised his hand over the lake. “Crystallumin”, he said, the word ringing with a power which set his black crystal and Vinsant’s quartz blazing. Out on the lake, the waters remained calm and dark.
“There is nothing there,” Levi snarled.
The Majoria sat back down, this time facing Vinsant. The boat sailed on.
By the time the sun had begun its descent, Vinsant was dying of hunger. And bored out of his mind. There were only so many animals he could imagine in the clouds while lying cramped in the bottom of a boat before his unanswered questions began to drive him crazy. He was tempted to try and work some magic. Just so he could see what he could do. The problem was, Levi had remained intent on him since the episode in the water, if the direction of his hood was anything to go by. Vinsant couldn’t really tell. The Majoria had not said another word. His punishment had obviously started, and an attempt to work magic, the consideration of an attempt even, if Levi’s humour this morning was anything to go by, was bound to land him in deeper scums.
They sailed past rickety fishing villages, children paddling, and women washing baskets of clothes, the boat gliding on without sail or oar. Levi’s magic was awesome, allowing them to cover the leagues to the northern shore in under half the normal time. Still, Vinsant’s sore behind was glad when the boat bumped the pebbly beach. At its edge, a path led across a grassy flat to a cluster of neat stone cabins on the lower slopes of a hill. The Crystalite Range provided a stunning backdrop of steep, purple ridges and snowy caps, the more spectacular because sunset had turned the wispy clouds pink.
His stomach rumbling in anticipation, Vinsant jumped out. The Majoria drew his sword and crunched over the pebbles to a dry strip.
“Uh…isn’t our best chance of dinner that way?” He pointed at the path.
“Imagine your practice sword. Use this gesture to summon it to your hand. You already know the magic word.”
“You want me to do magic,” Vinsant said, grinning. “Sumbek.” He made the gesture to no effect. Tried again and failed. Thought about what he had done in the dungeon, set his quartz aglow, and found a stool in his hand. He snorted as he thought about a drunken sailor suddenly on his behind in the Inn of the Shadow Hound. It was his sincere hope Levi was not about to make him trudge all the way back to Tarana to return the seat before they continued on.
“Concentrate,” Levi said. He waved his hand, and Vinsant found himself ogling the empty space the stool had occupied a moment before.
Vinsant screwed his eyes shut and thought about the sword. A headache began to threaten at his temples.
“Relax. Find your focus,” Levi said, walking around him.
Relax, concentrate. Trust a grown up to give conflicting instructions. He took a deep breath and, just like he had done in the dungeon, recalled his awe of the god. Other thoughts fled from his mind. He imagined the sword. Pictured his quartz aglow. Said the word and made the gesture. Toppled forward from the unexpected weight of the weapon in his hand.
“I did it,” he said.
“Dispumos,” Levi said, waving his hand. His black crystal sparked, and the sword disappeared. “Now do it again.”
Easy. Vinsant summoned his sword.
&n
bsp; “Again,” said Levi, making the sword disappear.
The third time he succeeded, he readied himself to make the sword disappear. Levi caught his wrist before he could gesture.
“You will confine yourself to what you are instructed to do, apprentice. Magic is not to be wielded lightly. There are dangers for the uninitiated.”
Vinsant sighed as Levi returned the sword to the palace armoury. Less enthusiastic, he summoned it again, and again and again. He supposed there was something to be said for practice since he ended up summoning with only the barest spark of his quartz.
“That will do,” Levi said.
Coming from the Majoria that was high praise. Vinsant grinned as his stomach grumbled with an intensity that surely could be heard over in the village. He was looking forward to a hearty meal. Levi had to have noticed he made no complaints about suffering a whole day without sustenance.
“Raise your sword,” Levi said.
Vinsant blinked. He needed a second telling before the instruction registered. He did not expect the Majoria to swing and disarm him before he was fully prepared. Nursing his aching wrist, he picked up the sword. For over an hour, the Majoria led him through simple drills that, on an uneven, shifting surface required more concentration than he had used in his one-legged bouts with Gram. Just when he thought he was doing okay, a quick swipe knocked the sword out of his hand. Vinsant bent to retrieve it and found himself unarmed before he had righted himself. He stared at the Majoria. His wrist was stinging, and he was sure a nasty bruise was going to colour it come morning.