No Deadly Thing

by Tiger Gray

  He let loose with a stream of both English and Persian that would have set a church on fire with the sheer force of its blasphemy despite that relative calm, most of his ire directed at the divine for not blessing him with better healing ability. Mal fell back and had to let go; each breath was a struggle and Ashrinn figured he had to spend every drop of spare energy on it. Ashrinn grabbed Mal's leg, steadying it as best he could as Mal twitched. He took the tourniquet out of his mouth and set it down.

  "Malkai. Malkai, dammit, listen!" He kept a firm hold on Mal's leg with one hand and reached up to cradle Mal's chin with his other hand, fingers already stained with blood. "Look at me," he snarled, putting pressure on the wound and forcing himself to channel enough healing magic that the bleeding slowed, "look at me!"

  Mal did, and Ashrinn felt a jolt of relief through the terror of sharing Mal's wounds. He had to remind himself to breathe, fighting to get enough distance that he could work. Healing had such a high price, he could see why there was hardly anyone willing to pay it.

  He tightened the tourniquet before he realized he was acting, and he nearly screamed himself at the feeling of the strap pulling tight. He ignored Mal's broken gasps, worse than if Mal had screamed, too. Mal convulsed and passed out.

  Ashrinn's vision threatened to close in on him, too, but he stayed functional by virtue of the desperate knowledge that if he fainted, Mal would die. He reached out with an unsure magical hand, searching for and finding the dissonance in Mal's signature. He gathered what healing power remained to him and channeled it. Mal's injuries terrified him, but he was preternaturally aware of Mal's body now and knew that his friend's heart was still beating.

  Please.

  The bleeding slowed to a trickle. Mal's breath was labored, and Ashrinn was dimly aware that he was matching those hard won lungfuls of air himself. He was too caught up in Mal, all the little connections that made Mal who and what he was.

  Ashrinn found his way back to himself through force of will alone. Mal regained consciousness for a moment and focused his feverish, bright gaze on him before passing out again. Ashrinn crouched over him as if to protect him with his body. Spirit knew that the creature could easily have allies. He reached out, grabbed Malkai by the collar of his jacket and yanked them both through the barrier between worlds.

  Ashrinn came back into his body, weariness rippling up his spine. Mal's hand slipped from his as Mal crumpled to the couch. Ashrinn ran for the stairs, ignoring his own pain, shouting for Raietha.

  He wanted to laugh hysterically when he got to the living room and found her sitting in an armchair with an embroidery hoop over her knee, as pretty and normal as a painting.

  "Ashrinn," she said, startled, "I didn't know you were --- "

  "Malkai's hurt. I need you."

  "What?" As she rose, Ashrinn saw real worry in her face. Because she loved Mal? Because she didn't want to lose her favorite possession? Ashrinn shoved such thoughts aside and prayed being a Fae meant she could do something.

  "We were attacked. I did what I could for him, but..."

  He tensed at a flash of unexpected movement, but when he turned he saw it was only Rosi peeking around the corner from the hallway. Her mop of red hair was just visible, a single corkscrew obscuring one of her glittering sky-blue eyes. She looked at him and her lower lip trembled, as did the points of her long Elven ears.

  "Rosi, go to bed," Raietha said, "Everything's fine."

  "I don't like it when you lie, Mommy," she said in a sweet voice darkened by seriousness unusual for a child her age, "It's not nice."

  Ashrinn glanced at Raietha and she back at him, but before either of them could think of what to say Rosi stomped down the hallway and went back in her room. It was as if the child had sensed what was happening.

  "Where is he?" Raietha asked, all business. Part of him liked that she had a cool head in the face of crisis.

  "Come on." He said, heading for the stairs. "This way."

  I am going to pay for this in the morning.

  She followed on his heels as he came into the study. Mal was still breathing, but unconscious. Raietha shouldered past him to get to her husband. Ashrinn couldn't really blame her for the rough treatment and he stood back, despite how badly he wanted to be nearby.

  She knelt beside the couch, skirts pooling around her, and, reached out to touch Mal's face. Ashrinn's jaw dropped as she pulled a necklace of jewels from her bodice with her free hand, each thousands of dollars' worth of flawless cut stone. She cradled an emerald the size of a baby's fist in her palms.

  "It's my only healing prism," she said, voice tremulous. "I can't create more, cut off from home."

  Mal's chest heaved, caught as he struggled to breathe.

  "Raietha!" Ashrinn said, somewhere between an order and a plea.

  She let out a defeated breath and crushed the gem as easily as if it were made of spun sugar, sparkling dust clinging to her hair and clothing. A spirit comprised of green essence issued forth, though as it wafted free it took on a shape reminiscent of a woman's form. It reminded him of Lizbet, all life energy and curves. It dispersed once more into mist and cloaked Mal's body before being absorbed.

  "It was for Rosi," Raietha said in a small voice as she looked down at her hands, coated in gemstone dust, "I meant it for her."

  His heart took a swan dive. He understood her reluctance now. She'd probably been keeping it as a last resort, to be used in the most serious of circumstances. He knelt beside her as she reached out to Mal once more. "I'll help her, if I can," He put a hand on her arm. She gave him a look he couldn't interpret before shaking his hand off and turning back to Mal.

  "Raietha?" Mal groaned. "Am I all right?"

  For a moment her cold demeanor slipped, showing the anxiety beneath. "You're all right," she assured him, and he struggled to sit up.

  "Ashrinn. Where's Ashrinn? Is he hurt?"

  Ashrinn found himself rather touched by the alarm in Mal's voice. "I'm here, Malkai," he said, standing so Mal could see him. "It didn't get me."

  Mal flopped back onto the couch in relief. A flash of annoyance crossed Raietha's face, yet when she rose her façade was back in place. "I'm going to take you to the hospital. Don't argue," she said before Mal could even start. "You're in shock."

  Ashrinn tried to keep his expression neutral as she turned to him. "Why don't you stay with him, Pinecroft?" She was perfectly polite, but there was venom there that he could still detect.

  He didn't understand her irritation, but he reacted like a cat dropped into cold water, at least inwardly. He managed a curt nod and she swept out of the room, leaving a tingle of magic behind.

  "What was that about?" Ashrinn asked, taking a seat on the coffee table and resting his elbows on his thighs. Just about then, he realized his knee was a mass of bright white pain. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to drain away he couldn't ignore it. He knew how to handle pain, though, and he swallowed his reaction in light of Mal's state. No sense in upsetting his friend further.

  Mal sighed, and by the lines of tension in Mal's forehead Ashrinn knew the lights in the room, mild as they were, were too much for his friend's pounding head. Ashrinn made himself get up so he could turn off the lamps.

  "We have our problems," Mal offered, his voice tight and colorless, "just like anyone."

  "Well, she's just worried about you, I'm sure." He took his seat again. "You are all right, aren't you Mal? Does the leg hurt?"

  "No," Mal said, wonder in his voice, "it doesn't. Other than the tourniquet."

  Ashrinn reached out and undid the tourniquet. He folded the bloody strip of fabric into his palm and closed his fingers around it. For some reason he only partly understood, he slipped it into his jacket pocket when Mal wasn't looking. He patted Mal on the shoulder, feeling awkward. "I'm going to ask Talasi to reinforce the wards on your house. I know Raietha is a fantastic mage, but the more shields the better; different signatures might confuse anyone else that thinks to make an attempt on
you and yours."

  "You think that thing was after me?"

  "You, or someone close to you. Constructs don't just wander around unchecked, usually. Someone has to send them."

  Mal turned on his side and curled into a ball as much as he could. Ashrinn came over and put a hand on his forehead, then crossed the room to the sidebar.

  "You don't have a fever," Ashrinn said, returning with the glass he'd poured. "That's a good sign. There's a tumbler of tonic water on the table. Drink it when you feel ready. Small sips."

  "Ashrinn," Mal tried, voice reedy. "Ashrinn, I thought..."

  Ashrinn reached out and gave Mal's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, grasping what he was trying to say.

  "We're unkillable, Mal. Remember?"

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ashrinn went to the astral alone this time. A calculated risk, but he didn't want to put Mal in danger so soon after suffering such a grisly injury. He hoped something remained of the creature. Then he could ask Kiriana and Raietha to tell him about it, since as far as he knew only mages dealt in constructs.

  There was a mage on the list of potential recruits, a man by the name of Daniel Cartwright. Daniel seemed promising enough as it was, but the fact that he often tracked down and neutralized rogue constructs had catapulted him to the top of that list. In the meantime, though, there were two master mages right nearby.

  It took him some searching, but the remnants of his glade hadn't quite faded. Once there, he found the thing's fetid corpse nearby. It hadn't gone far. The level of decomposition alone told him it had left the realm of the natural far behind. No normal body broke down that fast. He wished he had some esfand seeds to burn; the evil eye felt focused right on him just then.

  Don't be stupid. His rational mind tried to take over as he crouched down by the creature's corpse, but he still admonished himself for not wearing the turquoise warding charm his mother had sent him. He felt naked without the blessings it conferred. He'd hidden it away in the bedside table as an embarrassment, but with magic all around him it was hard not to give in to superstition.

  All that bluish energy didn't help ward Mal. That sobered him even more than the sight of the body's charred flesh and empty eye sockets. He needed some piece of it to take back to Kiriana and Raietha. Whoever had sent this had meant it to kill. He didn't have much time to figure out the who and the why.

  He drew his combat knife and pried at the thing's ribcage. He could see its heart, a green, moldering mass swollen with maggots. He gagged as he watched it wriggle and jump as though it were still beating. He didn't know much about constructs, certainly, but he felt comfortable assuming that wasn't normal.

  Spirit, if only he could create beyond the clothes and armor on his back. He wished for some barrier between him and that grotesque mockery of an organ. He settled for stripping off his jacket, then unbuckling the chest piece beneath to get to his shirt. He wasn't about to use the jacket itself, even if it was only the astral reflection of his favorite garment.

  The smell that hit him when he reached his wrapped hands in to the construct's ruined chest cavity was worse than a mass grave. He leaned to the side and was very matter-of-factly sick into the grass. He yanked the heart free on the second go, though he wanted to cry from the sheer misery of having thrown up. He twisted the cloth into a makeshift bag before the heart could leak on his hands.

  He left, fighting the urge to vomit a second time. The construct's nightmare grin, still frozen in place, haunted him as he crossed over.

  * * *

  "I have to admit, darling," Kiriana said as she bent to examine the heart, "you've brought me better love tokens."

  Ashrinn grimaced at the back of her head. He hated to bring the damn thing into his beloved backyard garden at all, but there was no way he was going to bring it in the house.

  "Is it a mage's work?"

  She knelt and held a hand over the bundle but didn't touch it. She looked quite odd, limned in sunlight with a rotten body part in front of her. "You think this came from a construct?"

  Ashrinn described the creature to her, trying to concentrate on the scent of his rose vines in the hopes that it would blot out the effluvium that still clung to him. Kiriana tensed as if with recognition, but when she turned to glance up at him her expression had skeptical lines etched through it. No horror or real disgust, though. Ashrinn had expected to see both.

  "You're sure it isn't a Nightmare creature?"

  He had to admit he hadn't considered that. For a moment it seemed resolved and he felt quite the fool for assuming anyone would bother sending a construct against anyone in the Pinecroft or Tielhart families specifically, but then he recalled a footnote from one of his readings. "I thought Nightmare creatures didn't leave bodies on the astral?"

  Kiriana's jaw tightened into an annoyed line. She hated being questioned. Ashrinn, so weary already, could manage only a kind of numb resignation.

  "Hmm." She reached out to undo the bundle as daintily as possible. "Gah!" She scrambled backwards, for once unconcerned with grass stains on her skirts. She took her handkerchief from her pocket and held it to her nose and mouth. She crept towards the heart again. "Not a mage construct," she coughed, strained voice muffled by the cloth.

  "Then what?"

  "It could be anything. I was never very interested in constructs." He could hear the haughty, wounded quality to the words. The Collegium had a focus on creating constructs --- the entire gnomish race had come from one of the Collegium's master mages, his life's work --- but Kiriana had barely passed her exams. Not that she knew he'd found that out. "I should destroy it."

  "I thought I might have Raietha look at it." He knew Kiriana wouldn't appreciate that, but he'd already made a dog's bed out of things.

  "It could be corrupting your garden as we speak," she said, speaking too fast. He wondered if she were trying not to be sick just as he had done. Real terror clawed at him. He needed this damn garden. It was the only place he could reasonably expect to have to himself.

  "Take care of it then, please."

  He jumped when the heart went up in a plume of fire, and he distracted himself from his fear by looking around, even though he knew the fence was so heavy with plant life that his mundane neighbor on the other side couldn't see in. Kiriana stood and tucked her handkerchief away again.

  "I'd like to know what kind of disgusting person made such a disgusting creature."

  Ashrinn had to agree, but he couldn't shake the feeling of something being off.

  "Do wash off before you come inside? I'd kiss you, but --- "

  "But I smell like death," he said. "I'm very aware."

  She just laughed at him and went in the house. He turned and watched the door long after she had gone. Something about their conversation haunted him, the same way the image of the cat's distorted muzzle did.

  She certainly hadn't seemed surprised.

  You really are losing it. he told himself, following her inside.

  * * *

  "You know, Daniel," Ashrinn said as he and the mage in question barreled down an astral path, "this isn't exactly what I had in mind when you said you wanted to apply!"

  "Sorry!" Despite the giant and quite unfriendly elemental construct on Daniel's heels, he sounded genuinely apologetic. "Unexpected assignment!"

  They were in the far reaches of the astral, beyond the reflections of the mortal world and into the space between the stars. Ashrinn felt light headed and short of breath, even though he knew both symptoms were psychosomatic; there was no atmosphere here as such and he didn't truly need to breathe.

  The divine sang in his breast and set his soul aflame. He knew that his astral body reflected the power he controlled, his aura brilliant red-gold. He felt the essence of all that was greater than himself coil in his forearm, ready to be released through his palm in a bolt of holy power if he but called on it. Certainly he was frightened, but the thunder at their heels exhilarated him too. He had missed battle.

 
He didn't know what the hell the thing chasing them had started out as, but now it was a humanoid lump streaming with seaweed and screeching bloody murder, skeletal hands reaching out as if it would rend the first thing it touched to shreds. He'd still take it over that cat monster any day.

  "Don't you mages ever make anything that works?" Through a cribbed understanding of hand signs and combat instincts, he and Daniel turned to face the construct, and spun away from each other in sync as the thing barreled up the path where they'd been standing only seconds before. Daniel brandished the chalice he had in one hand, managing to look annoyed even as the elemental melted into a puddle. Ashrinn assumed that in no way meant it was going to sod off and leave them well enough alone.

  "I will have you know --- "

  Before either of them could react, the elemental rose in a tidal wave. Ashrinn drew a deep breath in the mere seconds between the sight of the wave and it crashing down. He knew he couldn't avoid it, so instead he bent his will, causing the divine within him to focus outward into a shield as he knelt in the torrent of water. He held his sword up, trying to protect his face. He might be surrounded by magic but the human instinct to protect his eyes couldn't be so easily shaken. He prayed the flames on the blade wouldn't go out.

  He felt a moment of total clarity, more addictive in its way than the primal manifestations of what he was. Too easy to call on the divine here. He knew, even as righteous fury came to replace that peace, that he teetered on the edge of being burned down to nothing by holy energy. He caught a glimpse of Daniel, hair slicked to the mage's head, robe clinging to him, chalice and ritual knife both in hand now. The sickening, mind-bending sensation that told Ashrinn meta-math was being worked made the air distort, and a spike of pure ice hit the elemental, partly reformed now, in the chest. Ashrinn tried to stand, but the thing shrieked in pain. The sound clawed at his eardrums with jagged talons and he faltered.