Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Got one o’ those, too,” called Mel from the back room.

  “Ears like your brother, that one,” said Sam, and Shara laughed.

  Mel shuffled out carrying a tall stick with a small cushion bound to the top. She handed it to Sam, who immediately used it to stand.

  “Ya’d best be usin’ that to take yerself up to bed,” said Shara.

  “Like the Thirteen Hells I will. And leave you down here alone?”

  All that, and he still can’t see me as able to take care of m’self. Rather than argue with him, Shara nodded. “I’ll make ya a deal. Ya can stay down here with me as long as I can work. One of us in this growin’ family needs to make an honest livin’.”

  He swore again, this time in several languages, but he acquiesced.

  That way I can keep an eye on him, too. Still not sure he won’t sell me out to the Order to keep his place. Shara returned to the door as the inn opened for the evening hours. As long as he’s playin’ along, we’re all good here, baby boy. Or girl. Gods, I ain’t ready to be a mother…

  Maybe it was because he doted on her, or maybe it was because he watched her non-stop but as the baby’s time neared, Shara’s ability to keep her temper with Sam waned until it was reed thin. As her patience shrank, his ability to keep his cool with the various merchants, vagabonds, and thieves traipsing through Tarmsworth grew perilously thin as well. He wasn’t traveling with them anymore, but the town’s guards had hired him on to keep the peace in the city. Many evenings, he helped her keep it civil at the inn.

  When Sam wasn’t working, several neighbors helped him build another house in town, one that would serve as a house for the three of them once the baby was born. Every time Shara felt her face grow warm with anger, she bit her tongue and thought about that house. What fool would build a house for the person he’s gonna betray? She shook her head as she took her usual spot near the inn’s door.

  Another rich merchant strolled in, his mind on two things—getting drunk and spending more coin than he should. Shara shifted her weight from side to side as her feet ached. The same man who’d walked in, returned to the door, dragging a chair behind him. “Why don’t you have this chair, m’lady? No use you standing on your feet all night.”

  She ignored him as she had the night before and the night before that. Next he’ll tell me that if I were his woman, I’d be home and comfortable or some damn fool idea.

  Right on schedule, the merchant shook his head as he eyed her belly. “If you were my wife, you’d be tucked into bed with a hot water bag on your feet and a thousand pillows beneath you. Shame on whoever has you working at a time like this.”

  Still she refrained from paying attention to him as the volume rose across the room. Something was happening, though she couldn’t see over the merchant’s silly hat—a bright, orange cap all swelled up like a full horse bladder. As someone shouted and a mug hit the floor, Shara pushed the merchant aside to better see. Two men stood, their backs to her as they argued. Their words reached her as she moved, and she bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

  “That damn horse of yours is not a battle steed. Amaskans only sell those to people with coin and let’s face it, you don’t have that kind of money,” said the taller of the two.

  “Says you! I’m not exactly taking back vegetables in my caravan.” A merchant wearing silk that clung a smidge too tight to his ample waist, puffed up his chest as he spoke, and the first man laughed.

  “You fool. Way to announce it to the entire tavern.”

  “You’re the one telling me what I do and don’t have! As if you know what a battle steed looks like. Maybe your mother did, but you? No.”

  At this, the first man took a lopsided swing at the man in silk, missing by a table-width. He pulled back his arm to have another go when Shara touched his arm. He whirled around, swinging in her direction, and the man in silk pointed. “See? Now you’re willing to hit a woman with child to prove your point! What kind of merchant are you? Why would anyone deal with the likes of you?”

  The first man’s swing stopped midway as his gaze shifted from her face to her stomach and back again. “M’lady, I beg your pardon, but I would ask you leave. A tavern isn’t the right place for a woman like you.”

  When he returned his attention towards his friend, Shara spun him around by his elbow. “What I say goes in this tavern. If all ya want is a drink, this’s the place. But if ya want a fight, take it outside.”

  “Now see here—”

  The first man didn’t get the opportunity to finish the statement as the man in silk decked him across the jaw. “There now, m’lady. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  Shara sighed as Sam approached on both feet, his ankle fully healed. “Out,” he said to the man in silk.

  “But-but I was protecting the lady’s honor.”

  “This lady ain’t got any honor,” said Shara as she patted her stomach. “Besides, this lady can take care of herself.” She grabbed the first man by the legs and dragged the man towards the door. She was two steps away when the man in silk came floundering in her direction. Sam trailed after him and punched the merchant in the face.

  “You should’ve let me drag them both,” Sam said, looking at both men lying on the floor.

  “The exercise is good for the baby. Even the mystic agreed with me when he passed through town.”

  Sam shot her a look and held out his hands until Shara passed him the first man’s legs. She waited as he dragged both men, one at a time, into the street. At some point, the local guards would come by and fetch them, assuming they didn’t wake up and wander off themselves. Either way, Shara was done with both fools, though a third stood before her as he rested a hand on her belly.

  “I don’t think the mystic had this type of activity in mind when he recommended continued exercise for you both,” said Sam.

  “Exercise is exercise.”

  Both of them returned to the inn where two traders argued drunkenly over a card game, and he placed a hand on Shara’s arm. “I’ll handle this one.”

  She leaned against the wall. “The only reason I’m lettin’ ya handle anything is because my feet hurt. Now go on.”

  He grinned at her before striding across the crowded room. Watching him was entertaining. So entertaining, she almost missed the door open beside her.

  When the inn’s customers noticed, whispers spread across the room before silence draped around them all. Sam’s eyes widened, and Shara turned to face the hooded figure standing in the doorway.

  Tight, black silk rippled across their frame and clung to the wrists, ankles, and waist where it was tied. The hood, bound at the neck, also covered half their face and obscured the figure’s gender, though the width of their hips and shoulders made them likely to be male.

  Only experience kept Shara in place. Between her chin-length hair, round belly, and covered tattoo, no one would look twice at her and think she was that Shara. Even Sam looked drastically different with his long hair, beard, and guardsman uniform. If this Amaskan cares so little about makin’ clear his identity, he must know his mark is here. Or he really buys into the work bein’ that of the Gods. I don’t think the Thirteen even care what the Order does these days…

  Rather than stop the Amaskan, she ignored him. As the Amaskan strode toward Mel, Sam began moving toward Shara. She gave a brief shake of her head and pretended to smooth her tunic across her belly. Last thing I need is for whoever that is to connect the two of us.

  The Amaskan spoke in a low voice to Mel, who laughed at whatever was said. “Ya wanna know if I seen an Amaskan? Ain’t I lookin’ at one? I mean, I see ya right in front of me, eh?”

  Several patrons joined in the humor, then quieted as the Amaskan’s eyes narrowed. Whatever was said next, Mel merely shrugged in response, and the shrouded figure approached a table of merchants. He made it to a second table before Mel tapped the Amaskan on the shoulder.

  Mel moved quickly though the crowd. Fast enough that Shara didn’
t have a chance to warn her against surprising the Amaskan. Sam opened his mouth, but not soon enough. The moment the bar matron’s hand touched the Amaskan, he spun to face her. Something metallic gleamed in the candlelight before it made contact with the old woman’s abdomen, and she crumpled to the ground.

  Pure chaos.

  It was the only way to describe what happened next as everyone moved at once.

  Most patrons rushed the exit, while a few others ran towards the back room. Try as she might to prevent the flood of people fighting to leave, Shara was one person and a pregnant one at that. After several elbows to the face and chest, she wrapped her arms around her belly in a protective crouch against the wall. Someone stepped on her aching feet, and she cried out in pain.

  Sam, who’d been rushing toward Mel and the Amaskan, skid to a stop at her cry. His gaze caught the Amaskan’s, whose face wrap had fallen in the scuffle. Shara’d seen the man before when she was training at the Order, though she’d never worked with him. Something about the way his eyes had glared at everyone and everything had set her teeth on edge. Even more so now that she was in hiding.

  Several patrons pushed past the Amaskan, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he pointed at Sam as his eyes widened in recognition. “Is she here?” he shouted.

  Rather than answer, Sam held a hand to his ear. More people approached the door, and Shara lost sight of both men. She crawled on hands and knees away from the front door and towards a nearby table. Once there, she huddled beneath it and glanced up in time to see Sam’s dagger slide into the Amaskan’s chest.

  The man’s mouth fell open, and he mouthed his confusion before grabbing hold of Sam, who shoved him aside. Mel fought to sit up, blood pooling in her hands. “Get me some cloth!” Sam yelled, but the patrons ignored the additional noise.

  Something outside split the air with a piercing sound, and the chaos at the door slowed. Several people lay on the floor from being trampled while others stood pressed against the wall, their faces pale and taut. The guard’s green uniforms popped through exposed spaces between the bodies.

  “One at a time, please. No need to rush,” a guard called, and the inn’s patrons began pushing and shoving. The piercing noise sounded a second time. “One at a time. If you don’t follow my directions, we’ll do this the hard way.”

  People trudged forward, and order restored, Shara crawled out from beneath the table. It was more a waddle than a run as she rushed into the back room for Mel’s basket. She handed Sam the basket the moment she reached him. The sharp smell of blood reached her nose making the room spin. Shara tried to crouch down and made it halfway before the spinning room sent her to her knees.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sam’s words reached her through a small tunnel—almost a warbling whisper rather than his normal tenor voice—and she held out her hand. Someone grabbed it, though the fingers were too thin and smooth to be Sam’s.

  “Breathe.”

  She listened to the words and inhaled through her nose before exhaling through her mouth. A dozen breaths later, the tunnel had faded, returning her vision to normal. When she’d fallen to the floor was a mystery, but she lay on the hard wood, her cheek pressed against it as she stared at Mel. Several guards applied pressure to Mel’s stab wound with multiple cloths from the basket, and the old woman’s hand was curled around Shara’s. Sam sat beside them, his hands stroking Shara’s belly.

  While Mel’s face was pale, the old woman smiled when she caught Shara looking at her.

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen ya smile,” Shara said to her.

  “Just don’t tell no one.” The woman laughed, then coughed.

  One of the guards wagged his finger at her. “It don’t look like a deep wound. You’re lucky. It’ll hurt like bathing a cat, but if you take care not to jar it while the stitches are in, it should heal up well ’nough.”

  Mel’s eyes widened. “Stitches?” Another guard pulled out the needle and thread from her basket, and she swore. “That’s supposed to be my job, not the other way ‘round,” she muttered.

  The bloody smell returned as they pulled the bandage away to sew it shut, and the world spun. “You okay?” Sam asked, and she shook her head.

  “Somethin’ ’bout the blood’s makin’ the world spin.”

  Mel grinned through the pain. “Yer time’s close then. I ‘member just before m’boy came, the weirdest smells made me sicker’n I never been.”

  “It’s too early,” said Shara as she used one arm to lever herself to sitting. The world slowed to normal, and Sam reached beneath her arms to heft her to her feet. He dragged one of the few undamaged chairs over and set her in it like one would handle spun sugar.

  Another guardsman entered the inn, his gaze falling on the dead Amaskan. “What happened here?”

  Sam jerked his thumb in Mel’s direction. “Damn Amaskan came in here asking all sorts of questions about another Amaskan. Mel had no idea who he was talking about, so he started interrogating the patrons. Bad for business, you know, so Mel set out to make him leave—”

  “Why didn’t you do it?”

  He bristled at the guardsman’s question. “I was across the room. By the time I’d reached him, he’d already stabbed Mel in the gut. I thought he’d killed her. Next thing I know, everyone’s running every which way in an attempt to flee the inn.”

  “How’d he end up dead?” the guardsman asked as he crouched beside the body. “Looks like he was stabbed.”

  “He came at me. I don’t know if it was because I was helping Mel or what, but I wasn’t about to let him stab me, too. I dealt with him before he could do more harm.”

  The guardsman paled. “You know what you done?”

  Sam nodded. “I killed an Amaskan. I know. This isn’t good.”

  “I think you and Shara are gonna have to leave town. Last thing we need’s the Order coming down on us for the death of one of their own.”

  Mel tried to stand, but a guardsmen around her pushed her to the ground. Instead, she picked up a piece of broken chair and slapped it against the floor. Once she had everyone’s attention, she said, “They ain’t leavin’. Someone’s gonna have to run the inn while I’m recoverin’ and we all know, this town don’t run without the inn this time o’year.”

  “Surely the town could help you with that, Mel,” said the guardsman on her right.

  She shook her head. “These folks saved m’life. Probably saved the lives of others, too. You chase them outta town, you’ll be chasin’ me out. ’Sides, she’s with child. What sorta animal turns out a woman like that?”

  When she tapped the wood again and gestured, the guards lifted her , carrying her into the back room as if her words had settled the issue.

  Even though the guards didn’t say anything else, they avoided Shara’s gaze as she glanced around the room. A pang in her side caught her off guard, and she stood to stretch her aching back muscles. They’d been throbbing all day right along with her feet. All I wanna do is sit in a tub of warm water.

  She turned to say as much to Sam when sharp pain ripped through her abdomen, followed by a gush of warm water between her legs. “Oh, damn,” she muttered as her knees buckled.

  Sam grabbed her forearms and lowered her back into the chair. “Is it the dizziness again?”

  “Ya think I peed myself or somethin’ over dizziness?”

  From the back room, Mel laughed, followed by a mutter of pain. “That ain’t pee. Yer water broke, hun.”

  Shara glanced at the water on the floor, her breath coming faster than normal. Another sharp pain took her, and she wrapped her arm around her belly. “She’s right. The baby’s comin’.”

  “But it’s too early.”

  She clutched Sam’s hand and nodded. “Go find the midwife.”

  At first, he glanced between her and the door, torn between his desire to stay with her and her request, but when she cried out between clenched teeth as another contraction hit, he ran through the door like an
Amaskan chased him.

  The guards had covered the dead body before removing him from the inn, but Shara couldn’t help but stare at where the body had lain. From her vantage point, the man hadn’t gone for Sam at all, only recognized him for who he was, yet Sam had silenced him to keep her and the baby safe. His actions sent goosebumps across her arms. What else would he do to keep them safe?

  Delorcini, Goddess of Family, protect mine from those who’d break it apart, she prayed as another contraction passed. Why are they so fast? I thought they’d start slower.

  Despite the pain, she stood and paced a little before returning to the chair. Her body fidgeted as did her mind, until Sam returned, midwife in tow. The portly woman was as curvy as Delorcini herself, and she smiled when she saw Shara. “Let’s get you upstairs, hmmm?”

  Between Sam and the midwife, they managed to lead Shara up the rickety stairs and into the bedroom she shared with Sam. Shara sat at the bed’s edge as another contraction passed. “They’re too fast, and it’s too early!” she said to the midwife, who placed her hands on Shara’s belly.

  “Early or not, this child’s turned and ready to enter the world. You had any muscle soreness or cramps today or yesterday?”

  “I thought my back was sore like my feet. Ya mean they’re contractions?”

  The midwife nodded. “More than likely. It would explain why they’re coming so fast now. Sam, I’m gonna need you to get me some blankets, a sharp knife, and some string.”

  While he scrambled to fetch the items, the midwife walked around the room lighting additional candles while she prayed to Agaia, Goddess of Life. Sweat beaded across Shara’s brow as she focused on breathing. The contractions intensified until they resembled one long, intense wave. She alternated pacing with sitting and finally, when it was time, the midwife helped Shara undress, then guided her into a deep, squatting position.

  “It’s time to push,” said the midwife.