“Leave me alone!” she raged, clutching her injured foot. “I can do this, don’t you understand? If I can only make them listen to me. And if they won’t listen, then I will make them listen. How many are left? We can do this Carrus. I’m not letting anyone take anything else from me, do you hear? They will listen!”
“Shh,” he crooned.
“I will not!” she screamed. “All my life I’ve had everything taken from me and I will not let this task be one of those things. I will secure this peace even if it only lasts a short while. Even if it means I die in the process. Say what you will, Carrus, but I will not give up this quest, even if you think I’m crazy for it. I don’t care! It wasn’t my quest at first. I just went along to get stronger so I could defeat anyone who came my way. But somewhere, somehow, I found that I need this peace. I need to feel calmness and serenity.
“I know I botched this assignment up but it was working up until today. It is possible, Carrus, I’m telling you. If we just keep trying harder then we will make it.” She rocked back and forth, not realizing how hard she was clutching her foot. “Nothing is going to stop me. Not soldiers, not stupidity, not some silly king, and certainly not you. So don’t try to tell me to cool off and go home. Don’t tell me I can’t do this. Just leave me alone if that’s what you think!”
He waited for her to catch her breath between sobs. He tried to speak but she started her tirade over and over until he reached in and clamped her mouth shut with his hand, taking the half-hearted beating she gave him with her fists. “Hush now,” he said. “I said you need help, and I meant bandages for your wounds. Nothing more than that.”
It took her time to digest what he said and then she felt truly foolish for her outburst. He didn’t seem to care, though. He just waited until she was ready for him to start dressing her wounds, stoic and quiet. The survivors of the onslaught, and there were not many, tended their own wounds and so Carrus and Kitalla had plenty of time to take care of the damage.
As Carrus peeled the torn and bloody boot from Kitalla’s leg, she wailed uncontrollably in agony. In the course of the battle, some of the leather had fused to her wound and Carrus had to use one of her daggers to cut the rest of it away. The arrow wound through her foot was terrible enough, but the swordsman’s last attack had cut deeply.
“Kitalla,” he said hesitantly. “You’ve lost two toes.”
She didn’t seem to hear him, she was writhing so much. Carrus looked around quickly, but of the three mages they had acquired during the trek, all were dead. She needed more healing than he could offer with herbs and rags. They would have to head back to the castle immediately and hope that magic was effective there again. He knew Kitalla would be angry either way and it was possible that bringing her back that way wouldn’t get her to the help she needed, but he also knew that the damage was too great to risk losing her foot. Ervinor had survived without an arm, but Carrus doubted Kitalla would do well without a foot.
He summoned the other survivors to his side and explained the situation brusquely. “Gather your things; we’re bringing her back to the castle now. If you cannot comply, run off somewhere else. We move out in three minutes.”
And so they did.
Chapter 25
The Impact of Magic
Urrith rubbed his eyes and looked around the dark stone chamber, wondering why he was still kept against his will in this dismal place. He had spoken to a number of mages about trying to leave the Underground, but he apparently hadn’t demonstrated his loyalty well enough. Someone clearly suspected that he was aligned with Ordren, who had been hunting for Urrith over the past few weeks.
“They’re trying to kill me, not rescue me,” he had insisted every time he was questioned. “What can I do to prove it to you?” But no one had answered him.
There were no physical pathways out of the area; each mage had to open his or her own portal out of the Underground, and those without the inherent skill to do so relied on an elder mage to grant passage. He understood the need for such precautions, but it didn’t help that he couldn’t leave and return to Gabrion with an update on Ordren’s allegiance.
And so, with nothing else to do with his time, Urrith submerged himself in mage culture the best he could. He had no affinity for using magic and couldn’t even feel the pull of energies around him, which the other mages described as a constant tingling sensation at the recesses of their senses. The constant yammering of spells still made him feel uneasy, but not as much as the endless parade of fireballs and lightning blasts summoned all around him.
He hadn’t seen Janning in days, and he wondered if the old mage had been reprimanded for bringing Urrith here in the first place. The other elders hadn’t seemed entirely pleased with his arrival, but they could have just as easily brought him back to the surface and left him for dead. Perhaps they had been afraid that he could inform Ordren of the location of this part of the Underground. Still, without a mage to open a path, there was little a regular man could do.
And, Urrith noted, the king already had communications with the mages, so Ordren hardly needed to infiltrate their home anyway. Or maybe the king only knew of one place to consult with mages and wanted instead to control the entire area. He didn’t particularly care; he just wanted to be released.
For a while now, Urrith had allowed other mages to work spells in his presence so he could learn more about magic and so they would start to trust him more as they came to know him better. He talked with them when he could, but they always seemed more focused on working their spells than actually getting to know him.
The thought reminded him why he was lying there in the large stone chamber, far from the bed they had offered him. He had agreed to allow a team of mages to construct a virtual mattress for him composed mostly of air and dust. It didn’t seem very safe to him to float in the air for any reason, yet the mages were thrilled when he accepted their request.
“We… can’t have another mage lie in the cloud because… he would tug on the energies out of habit. We’ve tried. So we need someone like you who’s blind to magic.”
It had made a certain sort of sense to him at the time, though once the casting had begun he understood better. The air mages had little control over what was happening and creating a pocket of air strong enough to support a man was a difficult feat and, even with six mages casting in unison, they hadn’t been able to support him; he had crashed with a thud. Earth and healing mages had stepped in quickly, leaving him on a contoured stone bed with none of the pounding pain he would have felt from the impact. Regardless, he rubbed his head in memory.
“You’re awake,” one of the air mages said. “Erm, about the experiment…”
“Never mind that,” he waved his hand. “If you don’t keep trying new things then you’ll never get stronger.”
“We think we need more mages to empower the spell. Air is hard enough to control as it is and using it to buttress a body takes a whole lot of effort. Much more than a plate or a pot of water.”
He was afraid to ask but did so anyway, “Will the rest of you be trying again later today then?”
“Nah,” Jatta answered. “They have other things to do and I need to iron out a few other aspects of the spell first.”
“Like what?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Urrith wasn’t insulted by the comment, for it was likely true. “Try me.”
Jatta spent the better part of an hour breaking down components of the levitation spell in the simplest form he could, laying down various spell components as he did so to help Urrith keep track. “This calls the air, and this helps us maintain it for a time. The hard part is making air blow while also containing it.”
“Can you have it blow in a circle?”
“Thought of that. The first time we tried it, the potato sack spun all around and launched spuds in every direction.” He chuckled at the memory and then sobered quickly. “No, to lift a person up, we have to make the air flow upward with enou
gh force to lift and support but not enough to make the person fly away, or suffocate. Not yet at least,” he added almost in a whisper as if that was a secret.
“So your goal isn’t to make comfortable bedding, then?”
The color drained from Jatta’s face and he cleared his throat a few times before pointing back at the items. “The snail shell here catches the energy in a spiral and in a sense slows the spell down…”
They continued talking for a while and Jatta barely heard any of the comments or questions that Urrith made along the way. Like most of the mages he had encountered so far, Jatta was self-absorbed and secretive. He surmised that Jatta’s goal was to eventually develop a spell that would allow an air mage to fly with a good amount of control over his flight path. As of now, objects could be propelled somewhat haphazardly and some minor control over the flight path was possible. Cushioning a landing posed a challenge, and that was with a team of mages working together.
“Keep at it,” Urrith encouraged Jatta some time later. “All new things take time, and this seems pretty complex, but I’m sure you’ll get there. Want to grab some food?” Jatta passed on a meal as he sat with his spell components and shifted back into trying to find a better way to balance and control the energies.
Happy to be relieved of duty, Urrith wandered off and tried to find some food, which in itself could be a challenge for there were no set dining hours here. Instead, he had to find a handful of mages willing to ply their craft to making a meal, as on his first day. Once he had tried to visit the kitchen and prepare himself a snack but was quickly ousted from the storage area and sent on his way by some angry mages. Opting not to risk angering another group, he searched for two hours before he could find enough hungry mages who wanted to cook something.
Sated, Urrith retired to his room for a nap. However, Janning was waiting for him. “You have been summoned.”
Resignedly, the youth bobbed his head and followed the old man through a series of random corridors until they emerged in a place Urrith did not suspect. They were outside. He blinked against the late afternoon sunlight and looked to his guide for answers, but the old man had deposited him outside and then returned to his crevice in the stone wall.
Urrith glanced around, wondering in which part of Kallisor he had been dumped, but it didn’t look familiar. He suspected he was further north than where he had entered the Mage Underground and that didn’t bode well for him. He was unarmed, alone, and more feral creatures were known to traverse the northern lands where fewer settlements were around to keep the creatures at bay.
Though he was grateful to have been expelled from his entrapment, he did wish the mages could have at least given him a sword. With a shrug he stepped away from the rock and surveyed the area.
The fields were hilly and a faded green, with a chill wind skirting through the blades of grass. The sun beamed down, keeping the area bearable on the late winter day, though he could tell that nighttime would bring a terrible chill and his leather jerkin would hardly protect him. Shelter was his top priority, and with any luck he could fashion a weapon along the way, not only for defense but to capture food as well.
The horizon held few clues for him to identify his location. The castle wasn’t close by, and based on the hilliness of the area, his first guess was accurate; he was further north. He didn’t know any of the northern settlements except by stories some of the soldiers had shared at the outpost, but he couldn’t remember any specifics.
Urrith opted to head further west and then north. If Ordren was patrolling the area at all, then it should help keep himself out of the search radius. Ultimately, Urrith wanted to head back toward Hathreneir to find Gabrion. He didn’t want to return home or go to any place within Kallisor at the moment. His homeland felt foreign and unwelcoming. He also worried that Ordren and his crew would rise over any given hill and slay him, or perhaps the mages would change their minds about releasing him and draw him back within their fold.
He was fed and rested, so Urrith was able to maintain a light jog as he went, keeping his eyes and ears alert for anything out of the ordinary. The sun sank low and he continued heading somewhat toward it, hoping that anyone following him would have a harder time seeing him as he went. When his legs tired, he stopped and stretched, then continued at a walk, all the while grabbing a few stones and pocketing them. So far they were his only means of defense, but a well-thrown rock was a worthy weapon.
As the sun dipped lower and lower, the chill deepened and Urrith hastened his pace to keep himself warm. The hillside was void of trees and he had no means of making a fire. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to survive the night, much less make it back to Gabrion. He consoled himself, thinking of the tale he would tell one day and all of the embellishments that he could add to it, hoping he wouldn’t jinx himself for thinking it could be worse.
A short time later, he heard the welcome trickling of a stream and quickened his steps to reach it before the sun was completely gone. The water was ice cold, yet refreshing after his lengthy trek. He scavenged the area for a few water herbs and munched on them for a modicum of sustenance. Because of the oncoming cold and his lack of shelter, he knew he needed to keep moving through the night. In the distance he could see a cluster of small fires and, from their numbers and proximity to each other, he realized they belonged to a town. It sparked a bit of hope in him, so he hopped up and continued his trek.
He was only seventeen and though he had some worries chasing after him he was able to set them aside and focus on the path ahead. Thoughts of pastries and hot cider made his stomach growl, though instead of begrudging the hunger, he kept reminding himself how great that first meal would taste, and perhaps he would be able to convince the bar patron to pass him a mead to warm him up, too.
Urrith’s preoccupation with his journey kept him from noticing a distinct thundering in the area. If he had caught it, he would have examined the darkened sky and seen that there was no lightning to accompany the rumbling sounds. Oblivious to the danger, Urrith didn’t bother even trying to conceal himself until it was too late. He hoped it was a pack of lupinoes that would see him as unworthy of their time, but six horses crested the nearest hill, torches beaming from the two riders flanking Ordren.
“Cautious for so long and then you go and run a trail so obvious a child could follow it,” the general reprimanded. “You didn’t even try walking through the stream to cover your tracks. We held back, waiting for an ambush, but there was none. You really were just out for a careless stroll. How is it, then, that you eluded me for so long?”
It was all Urrith could do to hold himself together. He was cold and hungry, and he knew how this would end. He glanced around but there weren’t even any trees he could hide behind. He considered flinging the stones he had been gathering, but he felt foolish for even thinking they would help. He was pitted against six of the king’s greatest trackers. By the time he clobbered one man, the other five would be on him and there was no guarantee he could hit a single one of them.
Ordren stared down at the boy with a malicious grin on his face. “I couldn’t stop Gabrion’s little show back at the outpost without risking my life. I was shocked it even worked at all. I thought that little murder scene would be the end of it, but he somehow kept it together even then. It hadn’t even taken much to convince those men to mount the attack. Just a few whispered words in their ears when no one was paying much attention.”
“It’s people like you who ruin our chances at peace,” Urrith spat.
“Ah, he has some fight in him yet!” Ordren laughed. “Be wary, fellows, he may make fools of us all before the night is through.” The air filled with the mocking laughter of the king’s men.
“It doesn’t matter if you tear me down, Ordren. Gabrion’s plan will succeed and you will be ousted from yet another home. How many would that be for you? Four?”
“You’re a fool to try to taunt me,” the soldier warned. “Your death is in my hands. It can be quick and pai
nful, or just painful.” He jerked his head slightly and the five other men walked their horses around Urrith, surrounding him at last.
“It doesn’t matter, Ordren. The more time you waste on me, the less time you have to try to stop Gabrion from his mission. And even if you strike me down, it won’t do anything more than make me one more casualty to the senseless wars. It won’t even mean anything.”
Ordren dismounted and pulled his sword from its sheathe. “So your version of begging for a quick death is to say that your life is meaningless? Pathetic.”
“That’s not pathetic; it’s the truth. My death won’t change the world. You’re after the wrong ‘villain.’ You fooled me, Ordren, when I trained under you. I thought you were a hero to be honored and adored. Yet when Gabrion entered that outpost, I saw the truth immediately. You’re no hero. You never were. I don’t even know why you bother fighting. You’ll never be remembered in the histories. No bards will ever sing of your deeds. You’d only ever be a footnote: a fool who tried to stop the great peace that is due to come to this land. You might be a lesson to children growing up of how not to be. Of how great men are not made. Of how morons thrash around in the night killing anyone they can because it’s the only thing they have any control over. Because they can’t change the world around them any other way. You’re the one who’s meaningless.” He wanted to continue because Ordren seemed enthralled by the tirade, but he ran out of things to say.
The general’s face was set in a cold stone and he nodded his head once to his soldiers and they dismounted as one. “Brace him. Hold out his arm.” To Urrith, he growled. “I will be the man whose story is told to remind children of their place. One limb at a time, little boy. Count them as I cut them off of you and while you scream your platitudes to the empty night.” He stepped forward and grabbed Urrith’s face. “Take a good look at me before you die and learn the truth about the world. Power wins.”
The Forgotten Tribe Page 20