you–” He bit the scream back as she clamped it onto his foot and smashed it back together. He felt the strange, twisting and tightening of the loops of magic binding as it made his foot whole.
When she was done, he looked to see what was left. His foot was split from the middle toe almost to his ankle, now it was held together by a bright blue line. Magical surgical tools? He looked at her. He was breathing much harder than she and she didn’t look nearly as upset as he felt.
Where does she get this stuff? It is far too expensive here for just anyone to have that tool. He narrowed his eyes.
She noticed, shrugged. “The Source provides. When the plague swept over my lands, with so many suffering…it provided for me. So much. All to help me on my way. To guide me here to set things right. I didn’t…” she blinked as she watched one of the red stars shoot across the sky.
She was quiet for awhile, waiting for more, she was not disappointed. This was a nightly thing, though it looked like she had never seen it before.
“She hasn’t.” Mayla said. “Not in her land.”
“So?” The tart asked.
He watched a lazy blue star move slowly after a red one. “Hmm?” Seeing it for the first time? He could remember what that had been like. Magical. Back in the times when things were new and he was not as alone and cold and empty.
“How old are you?”
He sighed, thinking back. How many moons could he remember? How many wars? Battles?
I don’t remember.
Was that odd? To not remember your age? He was born and left abandoned to the trainers, from there, it had been nothing but fighting. Training. Fighting. Training some more. No one had ever bothered to let him know what day it was, much less what year it was.
“I’m not even sure what year this is, tart.” He said softly, watching the sky.
She watched in silence. Her eyes tracking the lights. Some were obviously man made. Made when magic was used by man himself, instead of harnessed through a focus. A twisting blue and red line danced across the sky. It was supposedly a magician’s proposal to his woman. That story, like so many, did not end well.
“That’s so sad.”
Was it bad or good timing that she said that just as those stars danced their way across the sky? He watched her watching them. He could see it in her face. The lines. The loss. The lights from above lit her from below. Her face was a dual color mess. Half red, half blue. Switched now. Half blue, half red. Switched again as the magician made stars spiraled slowly and forever around each other.
“Yes?” She asked, not looking at him.
It was eerie how some women could feel your eye on them. He looked into the water, watching it reflect the colors of such an old tale of loss.
“Do you know the story of the lovers’ stars?”
“Is that what those are called? The red and the blue? Dancing around each other like that?”
He nodded, wondering if she was looking at him or watching the stars vanish over the horizon. “Yes, those. You see, generations ago when man could use magic without an artifact, there was a young mage. He was in love with this beautiful young lass…”
“This does not end well does it?”
“No. No it does not.”
She sighed. Looking at him, through him, she nodded slowly. “Please, continue while I sew your boot back together.”
For some reason, despite his sudden spite to not finish the tale, he did.
10
It was the frogs that gave them away. That dead silence slamming down like a curtain over the former chorus this close to the river. The warm, strangely blue colored dream he had been in, where he had been held and loved and not lost and not left unwanted…was torn away.
We have company.
His eyes snapped open to see the stars above slightly blocked by a blackness that was man shaped dropping towards him.
No rest for the wicked?
He rolled aside as a shimmering spear thunked heavily into the ground. It hissed strangely as the dirt and grass burned. Before the shape could recover, he was on it, two of his daggers burying themselves into the dark mass. Or should have buried themselves.
What the–
He didn’t finish the thought as the man shaped figure lashed out, knocking him into the air, tumbling, spinning, to finally land with a splash.
He came up coughing, gasping for air, just in time to have his hair grasped and used to yank him out of the river. As he watched the strangely glistening blade moving swiftly at his throat, red exploded around them.
Whatever held him let out a feline yowl as it sent him tumbling head over heels, spinning on its attacker.
The girl!
He flopped into the river, quickly sinking, he watched the man thing’s feet pad over the water, staying on top of it like some kind of strange water bug.
What…the…?
No time for thinking. The world slowed as he sank. Not only was he going under the water, he was falling into his warrior’s place. The fish that darted around him seemed to move so very slowly. The star light glittered off every scale. Each one was a sight to behold. Ripples of dark rainbows as they moved around him.
But no time to enjoy it.
When his feet touched the bottom, they found solid rock to propel himself upward. This time, his daggers were glowing a dark purple.
Let’s see how you like this.
By whatever means his warrior’s sense allowed, he was able to reach the water walking man thing and jab upward into one of those strangely shaped feet.
This time, he felt the blade sink in and the man thing itself sank down into the water. Almost as if it had been walking on a bubble of air that had been popped.
In the darkness, he felt more than saw weapons coming at him. They sang to him as they cut through the water. Even with his heightened senses, he knew he’d take a hit. He would be shocked by that if he wasn’t under the influence of those deeper parts of his mind. His warrior state.
He could see the outcome clearly as he saw the man thing’s strange face. That thing saw it as well and was accepting its fate. They both knew what was coming.
I see. A death for a death then? So be it.
He felt his daggers slam home, sinking into the thing’s chest as its weapon cut into his side. Blood filled his vision. His own and that of the man thing’s.
It burned. Gods it burned! Was it poison?
He inhaled water, felt it slide down his nose, cold and sharp, sliding down, down. Happily dancing as it began filling his lungs.
So this was the end? About flaming time. Life was pain. This would soon be over. Not a bad way to go at that. Going out like–
Red flared around him, gripped him like some kind of hot, liquid hand, pulling him free, tossing him high into the air.
Damn…
He crashed down into the grass hard enough to cause the water to jet out of him.
“Mule head! Muley!!” The tart shouted.
“Ow.”
“Mule?” She asked. A red light hovering towards him. Casting strange shadows through the tall grass. “Are you alive?”
He saw a dark shape not far from him. Its eyes were locked on his own. The thing was definitely man like. A strange cross between man and beast. Glittering near by he could make out the spear.
So there had been two of them? I knew it. Three arms?
It blinked at him, thick blood streaming from its mouth.
“Quick.” It was hard to understand. “Warrior…much faster…than thought.”
“It’s still alive?” She asked. The red light danced over them. He could see the man thing had a light of its own, slowly fading away from it as it bled out.
It blinked slowly. Its cat like eyes looking in the direction of the river. “Mate?” More blood spilled out. It saw the answer in his eyes. “Dead.” It nodded, a small smile there. “Send me…to him–” it coughed. “…this…bad…for you. You…tricked. Brings–”
Red fire, fist shaped, wrap
ped around the man thing, burning it where it touched, crushing the last life from it. It lifted the limp, burning body high, flinging it toward the water.
He watched it tumble lifelessly until he heard a splash. He tried to move. He couldn’t. He looked at the spear. Its light had faded away.
“Fool.” The tart’s voice was tight with emotion. “Mule…” He closed his eyes as she came around, bending to look into his face.
Her hair was sparked out in some comically bizarre aftermath of the magic in her. Her eyes were spots of color he couldn’t manage to stare into, her clothing seemed to flutter around her as if a mighty wind was swirling.
She stood straight, hands on her hips as the wind that he could not feel continued to whip around her. As her expression softened, the wind dyed down. “Tck.” She sat down next to him. He watched as her hair slowly seemed to settle. Funny the things your eyes and mind lock onto when you’ve been dealt a heavy enough blow.
She leaned towards him, pulling and tugging him around as best she could.
What does she think she’s doing?
He tried to fight her, every step of the way. Just because he could.
“Would you settle down? Mule, you’re worse than a child!” Oh how nice. Being scolded by the little tart! He wanted to come back with some biting retort. Strangely, he couldn’t seem to find his voice. “My my.” He couldn’t exactly feel what she was doing now, nor could he see her as well as he’d like. “Look at you.”
He struggled as a red mist seemed to spiral up and around her. It looked, strangely enough, like her. The mist seemed to melt back down over her, across that suddenly glowing spot on her chest, before flowing towards him. Over him. He felt his
The Source Page 9