by Graeme Ing
“It will do my bidding,” Fortak said.
“Don’t be a fool, Fortak,” Phyxia said, clear and loud.
My gaze snapped to her petite form. Her face was tranquil and regal, yet her ears had flattened somewhat. If only I could see the color patterns in her eyes.
“Few men have displayed the arrogance to believe they can harness an elemental and treat it like a pet. All have died. You are no better than they.”
Fortak steepled his hands before his nose. “Half my life I have studied their kind. Countless nights toiling over long-forgotten summoning spells. My plan is comprehensive, Ambassador. It answers to me.”
“It answers to no one. Your goals are merely aligned. You think you will simply dispel it when its work is done?”
“I drew it into the world and I will send it away, while the entire city watches and proclaims me their savior.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
Phyxia chuckled. “The power of an elemental is beyond even your grasp, Fortak. It will not slink into The Deep when you tire of it. In its wrath it will devour the city.”
“Your augury is flawed if—”
“How dare you!” Her voice echoed around the chamber. Both Begara and the Duke startled.
My mind twitched violently, tuning her out. Danger tugged at my consciousness. My Perception bucked and rippled angrily. Something was among us. Where? I scanned the gallery and the room below, and then I caught a whiff of decay. A tombstone flickered into view, hovering before me, and two decrepit, slavering creatures clawing from the earth.
Ghouls had found our bodies.
“—will not usurp my authority,” Fortak said. “I masterminded this plan for the glory of the—”
“For the glory of yourself alone,” Phyxia said.
Kolta’s skeletal hand fastened on my shoulder and he steered me toward the stairs.
The stench of fresh dirt assaulted my nostrils. Razor-sharp claws caked with rotting flesh reached for our bodies. My Perception screamed at me. Two ghouls loomed over us.
“—the reason I came to you, Fortak, to contain the elemental.”
I jerked free of Kolta’s grasp and strained to peer over the railing. The sounds, the smells, the panic in my head. Shut up. I had to hear her out.
“Only I can bring this to fruition,” she said. “I can protect you, and I can send it back when you succeed. Together we—”
Grave dirt filled my nostrils. I lay on the damp grass, coughing and choking up soil and bugs.
The voices of Phyxia and the Guildmaster droned on, distant, unclear. A ghostly image of the great hall hovered before me, transparent against the swamp and trees bathed in the first rays of dawn.
Something lunged at me, grunting and growling in one hideous sound. I rolled against the tombstone and the misshapen creature pounced where I had lain, its hands raking the ground, flinging dirt everywhere. My head spun with the dual sensations of grass glistening with dew beneath me, and the hard stone of the gallery where a pile of bones now lay. It was being pulled in two directions. It hurt.
Desiccated flesh hung from the body of the ghoul, revealing glimpses of yellowed bone beneath its torn, paper-thin skin. Another lunged at Kolta, who had bolted upright while I had been lying in the dirt. Behind them, more ghouls clawed free of the ground.
Filthy creatures.
I siphoned power from my core and unleashed Deathwall, a blast wave that tumbled the ghouls into a heap. A decomposing hand, armed with talonlike fingernails, fastened around Kolta’s ankle. He stamped on it and let loose a bolt of fire, setting several of them alight. The reek of burning flesh almost cost me last night’s dinner.
Tombstones toppled under bulging mounds as dozens of ghouls pulled free from the soft earth.
“There might be hundreds of them,” Kolta said as we stood back to back. “We can’t fight them all.”
It would be bloody but I believed that we could. However, I was fearful that members of the Covenant would emerge from the tower at any moment.
“Run,” he yelled.
I stood and watched instead. The power leeching from him sizzled through my body. My hair crackled. He thumped one fist into his palm and a purple shock wave raced out in all directions. Every ghoul within twenty feet of us exploded, raining body parts. The remainder squealed and thrashed their limbs, scrambling and pushing each other in their attempt to burrow back into the earth. Kolta’s magic barreled them off their feet, smashing them against gravestones or sending them splashing into the swamp.
I wanted that spell.
Kolta yanked me toward the outer wall. It felt good to own a real body again, running fast, heart beating, lungs gasping. He didn’t let up the pace until we had scrambled back into the street and were sprinting toward Temple Plaza.
“How did you know about this?” he asked, panting. “What else do you know?”
“Stop.” I doubled over, sucking in air. I waited a long moment before straightening. I needed to look into his eyes. “Master, promise me you aren’t a part of this.”
Deep furrows appeared on his brow, and his face was the color of wine.
“I’m hurt that you think I would be. I can’t believe what they’re planning,” he said. “What ungodly business has Begara gotten himself into?”
He shook his head and walked away. I followed, and we emerged into the plaza. The babble of conversation was welcome after the silence of the tower grounds and the primal screams of the ghouls. I breathed deep of the sweet nectar of feresens flowers that had been arranged in baskets and hung from the street lanterns.
“Will you help me?” I asked.
“Stop the Guildmaster? I don’t think that’s possible, my boy.”
“You’re going to do nothing?” Passersby stared and I realized I’d shouted.
“I need to find out who in the Guild is involved. This is very dangerous for you. For us. Don’t tell anybody else, and for Belaya’s sake, lay low.”
I scratched my nose. It had become decidedly itchy since returning to human form.
“Do you know who those others were?”
“One of them used to be captain of the Black and Reds.” He studied my face as we walked. “You seemed overly interested in the ambassador, the woman with the horns. I’ve never been introduced but you know her, don’t you?”
I thought I had. I returned his gaze for a half dozen steps, and then I looked away.
“No. No, I don’t know her.”
With a mug of karra in one hand, I picked at a bread roll with my other. The abandoned remains of my cold breakfast lay in pieces on the table.
The midday rays of Solas glistened on the river. How many hours had I sat there in Petooli's staring down Canal Street? Less than I had spent wandering the city that morning. I remembered Master Kolta by my side at first. Bless him, he had tried so hard to engage me in conversation. He might have left, muttering, at the corner of Broad and Canal.
A white-sleeved arm pried the mug from my hand and replaced it with a steaming one. A bowl of vandesh was set before me, and its sharp aroma of peppers and spiced mushroom tickled my nose.
“Ye must eat, lad,” Petooli said. I nodded without meeting his eye, and he left.
I belonged to an organization whose leader had slaughtered hundreds in the name of personal glory. How endemic was the rot? Who could I trust besides Kolta?
I sipped the sweet karra, wincing as it burned my mouth.
Everything I touched burned me.
Phyxia. She’d been everything to me. The times we had shared, the advice she’d given. Never again would my skin tingle at her touch. How I’d yearned for her to kiss me just once. Life was perfect in her company, a warm cocoon that I’d never had at home.
Phyxia, Ayla, Mother B., I’d lost them all. If Kolta was smart he’d stay away from me too. How many more pointless, horrific deaths could my conscience bear?
They’d called it an elemental. Ironically, it was from Begara’s class that I’d first heard of this creature of
legend. There were very few ways to destroy such a creature and I knew of none. A throbbing, dull pain seized my temples. I drank some karra, my hands trembling. Fortak had been right. I should never have gotten involved.
Children giggled in the street below, chasing rats back into the canal. I had once played those games. Enjoy while you can, little ones, before you grow up and life burns you.
I sucked in a deep breath and held it.
Enough.
If I couldn’t defeat the elemental, there was at least one good deed I could perform—reuniting the Duke with his daughter. I put down my mug and spooned up the spicy, aromatic vandesh. The Duke had wanted me to witness that meeting. Was he getting cold feet? That was a stretch. He’d done it to get Ayla back. Had he told the truth about her not being a spy, or was his entire rhetoric an elaborate ruse to convince me? Had he formed a plausible defense to mask that she was a spy after all? The Duke played both sides, of that I was sure, but he’d know that if I caught him in a lie she’d be in danger.
I missed Ayla. My stomach tingled. Having her beside me had created a soft spot in my heart, absent now. Ayla wasn’t a spy. She couldn’t be. Her innocence warmed me more than the soup. I slurped it hungrily. I’d been mean to her. I sighed. The Duke had trusted me enough to betray his fellow conspirators. Now I had to honor that trust and protect Ayla.
On my walk back to Boattown, I tried to plan what to say to her, but still hadn’t come up with anything by the time I threaded my way across the makeshift wharves, planks, and gangways toward our ship. I’d gotten halfway when she appeared on deck, raising her arm to block Solas’s glare. Her head bobbed side to side, as if she were trying to figure out who I was. How many visitors was she expecting dressed in a Guild robe? She put her hands on her hips and glared when I climbed up beside her.
“The great necromancer couldn’t survive without me?” Her nose wrinkled and she sniffed loudly. “You stink.”
Her lavender scent washed over me, very welcoming after a morning groveling in the mud with ghouls.
I sighed. “It’s been a rough morning. Can you shout at me now and get it over with?”
She tipped her head to one side and studied me, still scowling. “Go below and get cleaned up. Have you eaten?”
“Sort of.”
“Then I’ll brew mulip.”
I followed her below. She turned forward to the galley and I went aft to the tiny washroom and shut the door. There was no lock. She’d laid out several buckets of water, already filtered through the boat’s charcoal tank. Cold, like her mood. Actually, she was being quite magnanimous considering how we’d parted.
I heard her slump against the outside of the closed door. I washed my clothes first, and then started on the blood and dirt caked on my body.
“I’m not a spy,” she said at length. “You know that in your heart, don’t you? I don’t want to fight. I want to be your apprentice.”
She was making up with me? I felt like such a piece of tristak.
“I know you’re not.” Why was I not apologizing? “I spoke to your father.”
“You did what?” She thumped the door. “You had no right to do that.”
She cursed and stomped away.
My clothes were soaked and I didn’t have any spares. I’d lost them all in the fire. I wrapped a towel around me and sat on an upturned bucket, head in my hands. When she returned, she inched the door open and pushed in a steaming mug. A minty aroma filled the room.
“Hand me your clothes. They’ll dry quicker outside.”
“You just want to trap me in here.”
“You deserve it.”
I thrust them through the gap in the door into her waiting hand, and then she closed it. The mulip warmed away the chill, though Akra would have been better. I gulped it down and listened to her move about the boat. I missed her conversation, her endless questions.
Almost an hour went by before she cracked the door and pushed my folded clothes inside. A little damp, but I wasn’t about to argue. She was being more than generous. I joined her in the galley, and we sat opposite each other at the tiny table.
“Why did you go to my father? You promised you wouldn’t tell, promised that I wouldn’t have to go home.”
“I told him nothing.”
“Then what did you talk about?”
What to tell her? That daddy was part of a plot to blackmail the High Council by burning down the city?
“He misses you.” That was safe. “He wants you back.”
“I’m not slinking home like a little girl. I want to be a necromancer. I want to be with you.”
The sudden softness in her deep brown eyes surprised me. She flushed and looked away.
“At least write him a letter so he knows you’re safe.”
“Why should I?”
“Because he’s your father.”
I didn’t like the man either, but at least he cared about her. I had no memory of my father and precious few of my mother.
“Because he worries about you. Because you might not get another chance if that thing comes after us.”
She returned to the stove and refilled our mugs. I drank deeply.
“What are we going to do about that?” She traced one finger across the worn tabletop.
“Hide here until it’s all over. I’ve had enough. We can’t defeat it. It’s impossible.”
“I was taught that nothing was impossible,” Ayla said, a thin furrow creasing her forehead.
She was naive. I told her about the Covenant’s plans and their secret meeting, being extra careful to omit any reference to her father.
“We’ll find a way.” She touched my hand.
My skin tingled and I wished the contact hadn’t been so brief.
“I believe in you,” she said. “I’ve seen you use your magic, and it’s incredible. Maybe your masters can help?”
She leaned forward. Her jaw was set with determination.
“I only trust Kolta. Fighting ghouls and skeletons is easy. This is an elemental.” I slammed my palm into my forehead. “I should have known that’s what it was. How could I have been so stupid? But then why would have I suspected? These creatures go back to the birth of time, to when Belaya fashioned the world.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s pointless to continue. Fortak has half a century of magic to draw upon. He’s probably invented more spells than I ever learned, and I shudder to think how much power Phyxia can bring to bear.”
“Your mentor,” she whispered.
“She betrayed me.” My voice wavered. I bit back tears and my stomach cramped. Why was there no Akra on this Lak-be-damned boat?
“We’ve got no chance,” I murmured.
“So you’re going to give up? Just like that?”
I shrugged and lifted the mug to my lips.
“No, I don’t believe that,” she said. “Not you. This is our city. Its people aren’t pawns for the Guildmaster and his…his Covenant to play with.”
Ayla pointed in the direction of the shore, but I kept my gaze on her, the way her cheeks dimpled when she spoke.
“Go outside and look at all the streets,” she said. “The buildings. All the poor families. They’re terrified. They’re innocent.”
I fished a dead fly from my mulip.
She grabbed my arm. “Listen to me.”
The hot drink splashed in my lap and I jumped up. “Hey!”
“You’re so stubborn.” She leaped to her feet. Her fist thumped my arm, and my mug bounced across the table, soaking the surface and the wall.
“These people need someone to protect them. They don’t have magic like you. They’re not rich like my father.” Her hand still clutched my arm and she shook it violently. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ll sit and mope while little children burn to death.”
“Stop being so melodramatic.”
I swatted her arm away with my left hand, while my right grabbed her chin. I gav
e her head a shake and her hands dropped to her side. Her huge, brown eyes sucked me in, stifling the tirade I’d prepared. It wasn’t her defiance that intrigued me, but her passion, her courage.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
That was unexpected. How like Phyxia her mood swings were. For a fleeting moment I expected to see swirls of color in her eyes. I released my grip on her chin.
“No, you’re right,” I said. “It’s me who should be apologizing.”
We held each other’s gaze for a long moment. I became conscious of my breathing matching the rise and fall of her breasts. I couldn’t believe that I’d once thought her younger than her eighteen solars. She was quite a spunky woman. I liked that. She slipped both hands into mine, hers warm and soft. After staring at my lips for a long moment she pulled me into a hug, pressing her head into my shoulder. The heat of her body made me tingle all over. I breathed deep of the lavender scent of her hair.
“Thank you.” I patted her back, not sure what she expected. “For reminding me who I am.”
She didn’t want to let go, so I pushed her away gently and we sat, entertaining our own thoughts for a moment.
“I can help if you teach me some magic,” she said. “Why don’t we start right now?”
She expected to be casting spells by supper, I could tell. Kolta was right. I needed to teach her.
“I’m exhausted. Tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
I nodded and headed for my cabin.
We spent the entire next day in lessons and exercises, and I had to admit that it was fun to teach. She was an attentive student. Certainly she had her moments of being a spoiled brat, and patience definitely wasn’t one of her virtues, but she worked hard and hung on my every instruction. How fast would I have learned as an apprentice if I’d been as studious?
We were still at it when Solas dived a golden death toward the ocean beyond the harbor. We sat on the narrow walkway that ran between the fore and stern decks of our boat. Though the harbor side walkway was blowy and without shelter, I preferred that we not draw attention from anyone in Boattown, or strangers looking out from the shore.
“How long do I have to do these stretching exercises?” she asked. “Aren’t we going to cast spells?”