From Blood and Magic

by Dave Skinner

  Nails looked all the way back to South Lake harbour, and saw Reese’s small boat way out on the lake. Turning forward towards North Lake, he saw houses, warehouses and inns on the shore of another large harbour. Ships of every size were maneuvering around as they approached and left the multitude of wharves, while others were holding position, waiting a turn.

  “We are to meet my father at the Simmering Pot Inn,” Remi told them. “It is close to the pleasure boat wharf.”

  They walked on until she pointed ahead at an inn with several tables sitting outside.

  “There he is,” Remi said, “and Shawn is with him.”

  Nails looked ahead and saw two men. One, the younger, waved at them. The older man was blond with a strong jaw and deep-set eyes. Nails had expected a man who was larger—more impressive perhaps. After all, he and Ran had fought the Destroyer and won. This man had the look of a warrior, but not the look of a hero like Ran. As they came closer, Nails saw that he had a pleasant face and a genuine smile. The younger man was similar in features, but not nearly as strongly built. His hair was blond also and pulled back into a short ponytail, and his face resembled Remi’s with a thin straight nose, straight teeth and a dusky complexion. There were wrinkles around his eyes as if he spent a lot of time squinting. Nails had seen it on sailors who had spent many years at sea, but never on one so young. Both men rose as Remi skipped forward and threw herself into her father’s arms first, and then embraced the younger man. Her father pulled her back into his arms and held her for a long time.

  “We will talk about the pirates when we are home,” he said when they finally separated. “Your mother wants to be part of that conversation. Now, who is this person you want me to meet?”

  Remi stepped back between Nails and Brayson. Nails felt her hand take hold of his arm and pull him forward a step. She must have done the same with Brayson, as they both came forward like her two personal guards.

  “These two saved my life when I was captured by the pirates. I killed all who came against me, but I had no way to escape the ship. The leader of the pirates sent one of his men for a crossbow. I have been told that he was going to kill me to save more of his men’s lives. Nails here,” her hand touched his shoulder, “is KaAnian. He charged me and took me captive, then the pirates locked me up in their village. That evening, these two freed me, and we escaped in a fishing boat.”

  Bray frowned. “They captured you and then freed you. Why?”

  “They captured me to save my life. They freed me because this one,” she indicated Brayson with a hand on his shoulder, “is my half-brother. Father, meet your son, Brayson.”

  “My son? I...what?”

  He stopped speaking as Remi raised her hand from Brayson’s shoulder and brushed back the hair over his ear. When Bray saw the pointed ear, a look of understanding crept over his face.

  “So it is true. Amadella had a child from our union.” It was part question and part statement. “Well I’ll be a sloth’s Uncle. She named you Brayson?”

  “She told me often that my father was the King of Nadia,” Brayson said. “She was quite proud of it.”

  “We should all sit,” Bray said. “We have years to catch up on. Innkeeper,” he called to a man standing by the door to the inn. “Bring us a bottle of Nadian Blush.”

  “And something to eat,” Nails added. “I was hungry at Lower Thesia. I’m starving now.”

  ***

  Brayson could hear Nails snoring lightly in the other bed, but sleep was evading him. Meeting his father and his half-brother Shawn had shaken him thoroughly. He had wondered often about how a meeting with his father would go. In all his musings, he had never imagined a celebration. King Bray had ordered a meal and lots of wine—good wine—the best Nadian wine the inn had. He questioned Brayson about his mother and his life and appeared genuinely interested in all his answers. Eventually, they got around to what he and Nails had been doing and what their plans were.

  “Nails has a problem controlling his magic,” he had told them. “We visited Crosstown to see if Adel could help him, and then when we travelled back to Gore we stopped to visit some friends who live on the reserve you and Ran set up for the goblins.”

  “Was Adel able to help you, Nails?” Shawn had asked.

  “No.” Nails shook his head. “We mentioned Ran, Manda and Garnock while we talked. The memories their names brought forth overwhelmed her, and she experienced a fit. I got her calmed down, but Fairchild forced us to leave Crosstown. He feared we would cause another episode. I understand she had been without them for a long time.”

  “I feel sorry for Adel. I think the Mother used her poorly,” Bray had said.

  “Do you know her, Father?” Shawn had asked. “You have never mentioned her.”

  “There is much our father has not mentioned about his life,” Remi said.

  Brayson could tell she was still upset about not being told about him. Bray had looked at her and known it also.

  “There are things that I have never shared with you two,” Bray told them. “I had a life before the Destroyer War, but you have never asked about it. For your mother’s sake, I have never mentioned it. But, to answer your question, Shawn, yes, I knew Adel. We were lovers at one time. Perhaps I have never mentioned Adel because the memory pains me. I often feel that if I had not taken her from her village, she would not be the way she is now. She was drawn into Ran’s and my destiny.”

  “As was everyone else, if what I have read is correct,” Shawn said. “You cannot escape your destiny. You taught me that, Father.”

  “How do we know what our destiny is to be?” Nails had asked.

  “I cannot answer that question,” Bray admitted. “Andoo Toran saw some of mine and Ran’s when he was freeing me from a spell that connected me to Mearistay. I think we will have to wait and see. The Mother is not always kind, but she is always secretive.”

  “Maybe you should ask Andoo Toran when you see him, Nails,” Remi had said.

  “Are you on your way to Delta?” Shawn asked.

  “Yes,” Brayson had said, “after we visit my mother.”

  “There is a chance I will see you there,” Shawn remarked. “I am going to see what scrolls they have regarding where we came from. I have read everything available in the libraries of the North Lake cities. The answer I seek is not there.”

  “What do you mean by, where we came from?” Brayson had asked.

  “My father and Ran have many friends among the little-people,” Shawn explained. “From them, I learned that big-people came to the lake country many generations ago. The little-people were already here. I have been attempting to find out where we originated and arranged to study the scrolls at Riverrun South, Marshtown, and then at Delta. I hope they offer clues.”

  “We must leave shortly,” Bray had said then. “Lee is waiting. Are you two sure you will not accompany us to Nadia? We would love to entertain you.”

  “Thank you, but we must be on our way. I have not seen my mother for a long time.”

  “Well, let me get you a room at the inn. You can leave refreshed in the morning after you break your fast,” Bray offered.

  They had agreed, and Nails was making the best of sleeping in a bed instead of on hard ground, but Brayson could not settle enough to sleep. Since meeting Nails, his life had changed. He had always distrusted big-people, even before they tricked him into slavery, but Nails had softened his attitude. He was a friend who could be trusted. For all their time together, Brayson had thought Nails was unique among his kind, but then he had met Remi, Reese, Ran, Manda, Shawn and Bray—it was difficult to refer to him as his father, despite how friendly and warm he had been. They gave him hope that someday he would be accepted by big-people as one of them, or at least as a friend, and he was anxious to talk with his mother about it.

  Chapter 22

  “I see smoke down there,” Nails said. He pointed it out to Brayson. “We should arrive tomorrow unless we ha
ve to detour around another river. Let’s stop and pick up supplies, perhaps get a meal prepared by someone else.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Brayson agreed. “We can decide when we get closer.”

  It was three seven-days since they had left Upper Thesia. For two silver pieces, a fisherman had given them a ride along the south shore of North Lake. He also pointed out the pass through the mountains the innkeeper had suggested they take. The path was wide and easy. On the north side, they had encountered a few other travelers, but after cresting the pass they saw no one else. At one point, they spied a group of territones flying so high above them that even Brayson’s eyes, which were exceptional, could not tell if they were ridden by far darrig Skyriders. They had descended the south side of the pass and entered the foothills without seeing another soul. Stopping at a village would be a welcome distraction, and they looked forward to the idea of a meal prepared by a good cook, though neither of them had gone hungry as they travelled. Brayson had fashioned slings for both of them as they climbed into the pass, and Nails was getting good at picking off land birds and small animals. Brayson’s ability to detect and soothe animals gave him the advantage, but Nails now supplied as many meals as he did. If his big friend could learn more about woodcraft, he would become an able hunter.

  They did end up having to backtrack before reaching the village because of a mountain-fed river that they could not get across. They had followed it back until they found a downed tree that served as a bridge, and because of this, it was dark before they were close to the village. They decided to camp out another night and visit it in the light of a new day—neither of them wanted to walk into trouble. Brayson believed that Nails had agreed to this overland trip partially so they would be away from crowds.

  The next morning, Nails did his exercises, then they packed up and soon had a good view of the village laid out at the foot of the hill they had spent the night on.

  “It looks peaceful,” Nails said.

  Brayson agreed as they started down the hill. He could see sheep grazing off to the right. Close to the village, they passed through a herd of goats. Brayson sensed discomfort from some of them. The knowledge that they had missed being milked the previous evening came to him. He also sensed sadness about the village. That feeling was coming from the people.

  “Very quiet,” Nails observed.

  He was right. Brayson could see young children sitting silently, almost morosely, on steps in front of the houses.

  “They all look sad,” Brayson observed, “and where are the young men?” So far, all the people he had seen were children, women and old men. They were getting close to the village well where a number of women stood waiting. Four of them awkwardly carried swords.

  “What do you want here?” one woman asked. She was middle-aged with greying hair and bright blue eyes.

  “We wanted to buy supplies and possibly a meal,” Brayson answered. “If that is not possible, we will be on our way. We are not looking for trouble.”

  Brayson noticed a young child peeking out from behind a younger woman’s skirt. He smiled at her. The child must have taken courage from the smile because she stepped out.

  “Have you seen my daddy?” she asked. Her mother pushed her back, but her head remained visible.

  “No, we saw no one on our way here, little one,” Brayson said as he squatted down. “Is he missing?” The girl bobbed her head at him. Brayson remained squatted and looked back at the spokeswoman. “If you have a problem, we might be able to help.” He tried to project trust along with his words.

  “Our men are missing,” the woman told him.

  “My daddy went looking for my brother three days ago and didn’t come back. Can you find them?”

  “We can try,” Brayson said.

  The whole story came out then. Three boys had gone fishing in the next valley over. When they failed to return, two men had gone to find them. They also had failed to return. A search party consisting of all the remaining men had left the next day. Not one had returned. The women were trying to figure out what to do. Some wanted to go and look, but the head man’s wife—the spokesperson for the group—said her husband had told them to stay in the village.

  “Have there been any reports of large animals in the area?” Brayson asked. All the women shook their heads, even the young girl. “Any strangers around? Any strange occurrences?”

  “My son had been fishing two days before they disappeared,” the mother of the little girl said. “He said he heard singing.”

  Brayson felt a chill pass down his back. He stood back up and glanced at Nails.

  “You should stay here, Nails, while I go take a look.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Brayson thought for a moment. “Do you have beekeepers in the village?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Some honeycomb would be helpful, or potting clay would work,” Brayson said.

  “We have a potter. How much clay do you need?”

  “Two handfuls would do it, enough to cover and block our ears.”

  “I’ll get it,” the little girl said, and she took off at a run.

  “Two big handfuls for you, little one,” Brayson called. He looked back at the women. “Which way is the other valley?” The spokeswoman pointed towards the west. “How far?”

  “One turn of a small sand glass,” she said. “You will need a way of keeping the clay moist.” She pointed at one of the other women. “Becka, get two small rags.” Becka ran off.

  Brayson looked into the spokeswoman’s eyes and saw understanding. She knew what was out there. Becka and the little girl arrived back at the same time, and they wrapped the two clay balls in wet rags before Brayson turned to Nails.

  “We might as well leave our packs here,” he said.

  They dropped them beside the well and headed out. Nails waited until they were well away before he spoke.

  “What’s going on, Brayson? Why the clay?”

  “It is one way to block out a siren’s song.”

  ***

  “What are we waiting for?” Nails asked.

  They were stretched out at the top of a hill, looking down on the valley. Below, Nails could see three women holding court over a large group of men and boys. The women sat on a stone beside a fast-moving stream, and the men were all standing or kneeling in the water. It was a mountain-fed stream, the same type they had been following as they descended the pass. Nails knew from experience it was freezing cold, but the men did not appear to mind.

  “They are sirens, Nails. We cannot barge in on them.”

  “Why not? What are they going to do? We are two armed men. They are three women.”

  “They are not women, they are sirens. If we hear their singing, we will be their prisoners until we die like those men down there.”

  “They must have wonderful voices to enthrall men like that.”

  “They are magical beings. Their singing is a spell that ensnares you.”

  “Is that why you made the clay covers for our ears?”

  Brayson had stopped them by a small pool at the entrance to the valley and used the clay and rags to make ear covers.

  “Yes, and once we put them on we will not be able to hear each other, so listen carefully. I am going down and you will remain here. I hope that the siren magic I inherited from my mother will protect me if something bad happens. If not, you will at least see how I was taken and be able to protect yourself when you come down.”

  “All right,” Nails said, “but I don’t feel good about this. I have never harmed a woman before. What if I can’t force them to let you go?”

  “They look like beautiful women, but they are not. Do not be fooled. They are creatures that suck the life from their captives.”

  Nails thought about that for a few moments.

  “We should have brought our packs with us and just moved on without interfering.”

  “I thought about it,” Br
ayson said, “but the village women cannot survive with all their men gone. I could see their desperation. Are you willing to let those children die?”

  “No, I don’t want to see that.”

  “Anyway,” Brayson continued. “Sirens enslave people. Did you like slavery?”

  “Okay, I see your point,” Nails said, “but I don’t want to use magic. Now, show me how to put on these ear covers.”

  Brayson showed him how to stuff small pieces of cloth in his ears then put the clay covers over them and secure them in place with strips of rawhide. Once they were on, Nails watched as Brayson approached the sirens. The creatures gathered around him as he spoke. Suddenly, one sprang forward and knocked a cover off one of his ears. Nails saw his friend struggle to escape and then stop before he had moved more than a few steps. Brayson turned and followed the creatures back to the water. They put him to work immediately washing their feet.

  “Destroyer!” Nails swore as he stood up, pulled his sword and started down the hill.

  The sirens watched him approach. As he got closer, they left their seats on the rock and came towards him. Nails held his sword up.

  “Stay back,” he warned. “Let the people go, and you will not get hurt.”

  The sirens laughed at him and said something he could not hear. At least the ear covers were working. They were close now.

  “Stop!” he commanded.

  They stopped. The one in the centre started talking and making suggestive movements with her hands and body. Nails had seen the girls in the pleasure house move like that when they were enticing men to take them upstairs. The siren continued to move and talk. He was trying to understand what she was saying when the other two sprang forward. In a heartbeat, their appearance changed from beautiful to terrifying, and Nails’ sword flew out, opening the throat of the one on his right. The other got close enough to rip away one of his ear covers before his hand closed on her throat. He heard the song. It reached inside him and began to pull at his being. He felt his strength seep away as the song reached deeper. It touched his core. His dark, magic core awoke, and it reached forth hungrily. He heard the other hag—their beauty had disappeared completely now—telling him to put down his sword and let her sister go. He sheathed his sword. The talking hag stepped forward with a smile on her face, which turned to a black-toothed snarl as Nails’ free hand shot out and grabbed her throat. The two in his hands snarled and clawed at him but scales covered his body, although he couldn’t remember raising them. At his feet, the siren whose throat he had cut was dying in gasps. He raised a boot and brought it down on her chest, then, using the method Sinty had taught him, drew the sirens’ magic to him through his hands and foot. His core accepted it hungrily, and the sirens wilted until they were empty husks. Opening his hands, he let the husks fall away before he stepped forward and into the stream. Brayson and the rest of the men and boys were shaking their heads as if they were awakening. All looked worn down and old, even Brayson. He had aged years in the moments he had been held captive. Nails released his magic into the waters of the stream in a steady flow, another trick Sinty had taught him, and Brayson looked better almost immediately. By the time Nails felt empty, all the men and boys looked young and well. He stepped back from the stream and fell to his knees. Brayson was beside him in a few moments.