The Sea

by A. H. Lee

  “Inconvenient!” howled Sairis. “I have been alone, trying to figure out how to...how to help you and what to do if you’re gone, and I am so...” I was so alone.

  Karkaroth hesitated. His posture deflated a little. At last, he said, “I would have thought you’d have run away to that university by now.”

  Sairis wiped his face on his sleeve. Damned body, still remembering to be human. “I thought if I figured out how to restore the wood, you might be alright. I...I left the tower. I thought I was only going to be gone for a few days, but it’s been weeks. I was stabbed and kidnapped and poisoned. I raised elk and humans and even the Shattered Sea. I rode a horse and I made friends and I fell in love. And all I wanted to do was save you!”

  Karkaroth smiled. He looked a little more alive now, a little more human. He studied his apprentice. “Fell in love, eh? With whom?”

  Sairis sniffled. “You’d kill me.”

  Karkaroth waved a hand. “Love is a mannerless houseguest. It stalks in uninvited and leaves footprints all over the rugs. Love never arrives at a time that would be rational or convenient.”

  Sairis hiccupped a laugh. “He’s a knight.”

  Karkaroth shrugged. “I once fell in love with a nobleman’s daughter. Can you imagine? Me! One step away from aristocracy!” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Sairis barked a laugh.

  “But it was good for a while,” continued his teacher. “I’ve often thought those were my happiest years.”

  Someone spoke behind them. “Were they?”

  Karkaroth glanced over his shoulder. A long pause and then he said softly, “Ari?”

  Marsden came forward and sat down on the other side of him—not too close. Karkaroth cocked his head. “Have you come to put me down at last? Gods, you must want it badly to cross over.”

  Marsden shook his head. “I came for Sairis. To get him out of here before his body dies.” Marsden hesitated. “Have you been keeping these ghosts contained all this time?”

  Karkaroth nodded. “I found the tower a few years ago when some villagers asked me to deal with a malevolent spirit. It had wandered onto the mortal plane. I tracked it back to this place.”

  A bitter smile flickered around the corners of Marsden’s mouth. “Protecting Mistala in your own way?”

  Karkaroth harrumphed. “You always wanted to think so. It always got you into trouble.”

  “Figuring out how to build your own?” asked Marsden dryly.

  Karkaroth shrugged. “It’s very interesting.”

  “We need to destroy it,” said Marsden, “if you want Sairis to survive.”

  “You’re always after my towers,” grumbled Karkaroth.

  Marsden passed a hand over his face. “I wish you had come down.”

  Sairis was surprised when Karkaroth said, “So do I.” There was a long silence. At last, he continued, “I...lost my temper, Ari.”

  “I noticed,” muttered Marsden. “The whole kingdom noticed.”

  Karkaroth jerked a gnarled thumb at Sairis. “But that kid...taking him in was the best thing I ever did.”

  Sairis was shocked. His master had never said such a thing before. Indeed, he’d commented on many occasions at the massive inconvenience that Sairis presented.

  “The world isn’t kind to people like him,” continued Karkaroth. “I hoped he’d be like me—content with his magic and his books—but he’s not. He’s lonely.”

  “He has made friends,” said Marsden quietly. “He has proven himself talented, kind, and loyal. He has superb control of his own magic. My school would be a better place with him in it.”

  Karkaroth’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’ll put a collar on him?”

  “No,” whispered Marsden. He took a deep breath. “I made mistakes, too, Jonas. We need people like Sairis. I was hoping he could help me with some of the others.”

  “Or you could!” interjected Sairis to Karkaroth. “Sir, you know so much, and you’re not a very patient teacher, but you taught me, and—”

  Karkaroth was laughing. “I am not a professor, Sair.” His sharp little eyes gleamed. “I am a dark wizard, who has followed knowledge into inexcusable places.”

  “But—”

  He stood up and stretched. “I have actually been thinking about how to unravel this spirit vessel. The ghosts could break the wall of the moat if they all struck together. They would need an incentive to do that, however. A powerful one. They would need someone to lead the way.”

  Sairis understood an instant before Marsden. He got to his feet. “No.”

  “Sair, I am old. As you said, my body is failing.”

  “No.”

  He touched Sairis’s cheek—a parental gesture that seemed utterly alien to Sairis. “You are the only thing that was keeping me on the mortal plane, child. And as you’ve just pointed out, I was doing a terrible job at that, too. You don’t need me anymore.”

  Tears ran down Sairis’s face.

  Karkaroth stepped away. “When I cut the tether to my body, a great deal of necromantic magic will be released. The ghosts will come like sharks to blood. They’ll follow me down the ditch into the true River...into Death.”

  Marsden cleared his throat. “What about the fragments of Hastafel’s ghost? Will they also...die?”

  Karkaroth considered. “Gods, I wish I was going to get to see that part! I’m not sure what they’ll do, but I suspect they’ll rejoin their host like a demon returning to its entity.” His eyes crinkled. “Maybe Sair can come back and tell me what happened.”

  Marsden frowned. “You’re planning to linger?”

  Karkaroth laughed—more of a cackle, really. “I’m a necromancer. Everyone knows we’re bad at dying.”

  Marsden massaged the bridge of his nose. “Jonas, please don’t make me hunt you down. Again.”

  Karkaroth shrugged. “I admit, I’m curious about what’s beyond the gate. So maybe I won’t linger after all.”

  Sairis threw his arms around the old man, who accepted this familiarity with all the grace of a feral cat. He disengaged and turned away with a wave of his hand. “Bury me under my favorite tree. You know the place, but never tell another soul. And burn that book we got from the faery prince; it’s nothing but trouble. Do not let Ari burn the rest of my library!”

  “I will,” said Sairis. “And I won’t!”

  “Make sure the pigeons are cared for, and water the beans.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then he dropped into the ditch in a flash of green flame and all hell broke loose inside the moat.

  Chapter 21. Hastafel

  Sairis jerked awake. A big man was looming over him with a drawn sword in the waning light. For a moment, he was eleven years old and standing in a bean patch, staring up at a knight. Then his head cleared. “Roland?”

  Roland’s gaze was focused outwards, but he looked down quickly. “Sair?”

  Sairis registered Marsden sitting up beside him. “How long?” gasped the old man. “How long were we gone?”

  “A couple of minutes?” said Roland, his voice full of distracted relief. “Sair, don’t you ever do that again!”

  “Can’t promise,” whispered Sairis, adjusting his glasses.

  “I couldn’t live with myself!”

  “You took Marsden’s spell for me. It was my turn.” Sairis wanted to make a better joke, but he just couldn’t summon one. My teacher is gone.

  “What’s happening with Hastafel?” asked Marsden

  “Not sure,” said Roland. “Daphne ordered everyone back, away from the demon, since it was provoking dissent. It’s fighting Mal with the sword, trying to reach Candice. I don’t think Mal is doing too well. It looks like they’ve stopped.”

  Sairis got to his feet. Marsden was already moving through the press of men and horses. Sairis followed, Roland on his heels. Everyone was, indeed, well back from the fight. Sairis couldn’t see details, but Mal was on the ground. As he watched, the red knight drove the sword into the leopard�
�s chest and jerked it free with a fierce cry. “There,” he snarled, “now you can spend a thousand years inside a spirit vessel, you weak, human-loving alley cat.”

  The knight turned his attention to Candice, who was backing away. “Next,” he hissed, “the little girl who should have stuck to embroidery.”

  The sword blazed all at once. The demon-knight jerked, but before he could drop it, necromantic fire raced up his arm. He howled, sounding entirely like the wolf. His shape disintegrated—a leaping, twisting form that rolled in the shallow water, but this was Karkaroth’s own fire, his last outpouring of magic, and nothing could put it out. Demon and sword disintegrated in seconds, leaving behind nothing except a shapeless chunk of obsidian.

  Sairis reached Mal, who appeared to be alive, though perhaps not for much longer.

  Hastafel staggered away from Candice’s advance, shock etched in his face. “You are a child!” he spat. “A...a little girl!”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps that’s why you chose me.”

  “What?”

  “Gods,” whispered Roland behind Sairis. He was looking at the remains of the sword, at the reflection spreading out from it along the surface of the water. Sunset colors disappeared, along with the reflection of the distant fort, and finally even the people standing in the shallow lake. Sairis saw a gray sky, twisted trees, and directly “above” them in the reflection, a tower collapsing, great chunks of masonry splashing soundlessly into a moat that was draining away.

  A figure walked out of the tower—a familiar man, barely different from the one they’d been talking to a moment ago. Sairis remembered him pacing back and forth in his stone prison. “Did I make more of them?”

  The man reached Hastafel in the reflection and vanished.

  Lord Hastafel gave a jerk. His dark eyes went wide. He looked at the mirrored surface of the water. “No,” he whispered.

  He looked like he would run, but Candice snarled, “Stay, Phillip!”

  “No, no, you can’t... You have no idea! What do you want? Falcosta? I will make it yours. Your brother will fall at your feet or lose his head. Only let me close this weak place, this...this gate we have made by accident. It’s...it’s—”

  “I don’t want Falcosta,” snapped Candice.

  Another form materialized out of the tower beneath their feet—a younger warrior. “Is there such a thing as enough power?”

  He disappeared, and Hastafel jerked again. He raised panicked eyes to Candice. “Do you want love? I know the name of another aspect of Lust—more sophisticated than that clown of a leopard. You will be desired by anyone you please. You will be coveted—”

  “I don’t want love,” said Candice.

  Another ghost appeared, this one a young scholar. “This knowledge can’t die with me.”

  The sorcerer buried his face in his hands. “No, no, no...”

  Another ghost, this one with a tear-streaked face, and then an animated one, looking around with anticipation. “How many chances do you get at love?”

  Hastafel was sobbing. He curled over in the mud.

  A sad-eyed ghost flitted past, looking like a lost child. And then, finally, the young shepherd. He stopped a pace from Hastafel in the reflection and looked at Candice for a long moment. “I have fulfilled our bargain,” she said solemnly and Sairis’s suspicion grew to a certainty.

  “He gave you his name.”

  Candice nodded.

  “He summoned Mal,” said Marsden.

  Another nod, and the goatherd smiled. “It’s amazing what a man lets slip when he’s only talking to himself.”

  Hastafel raised tortured eyes to his younger self. “Why are you doing this? We...we could have ruled the world.”

  “You imprisoned me!” hissed the boy. “You became just like those soldiers who burned our village.”

  “I did what had to be done!”

  “I was a shepherd! You’ve become a wolf!”

  “We will go mad!” cried Hastafel.

  “Perhaps. It can’t be worse than living the darkest day of my life forever.”

  He took the final step and vanished. Lord Hastafel froze, mute, his eyes wide, speechless with the memory of every part of himself he’d tried to forget.

  A rasping voice. “Candice...?”

  She whirled. “Mal.”

  Red mud slid under the leopard as he tried and failed to stand. Whatever else demons might be, they could apparently bleed. His pain appeared genuine as well. “You promised,” he whispered.

  Candice swallowed. “Could you heal yourself if you shifted?”

  Mal smiled. “You promised,” he repeated. “But sorcerers always lie.”

  Candice sniffled. “No, I...I’ll do it. I’ll miss you, that’s all.”

  Mal’s smile had a trace of something like sorrow. “I would have only devoured you in time.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Oh, believe it. Look at you. You don’t even want sex, but you’re half in love with me. I’d have you eating out of my hand before you knew it. I’d make you trust me. And then I’d eat you up. If there’s one thing better than going home, it’s going home with my master’s soul in my belly.” He ran his bloody tongue over his teeth.

  In spite of this alarming speech, Candice knelt down beside his head. “You say the most awful things,” she whispered. “But you’ve saved my life and kept me going when I would have given up. I will send you home, Mal, because I promised, but I don’t think you’re as heartless as you believe. I hope you fall in love someday.” A hint of bitterness crept into her voice and she added fiercely. “I hope you fall so hard it breaks you!” She drew a deep breath and added, “Phillip Gosling, dismiss him.”

  Hastafel choked out a spell.

  The leopard was staring at Candice the whole time, his face unreadable. He looked almost as though he intended to say something else, but then he vanished.

  An instant’s pause. “Well that was impressive,” said Marsden. “Candice, are you—?”

  “I am going to learn how to be a sorcerer,” she said. “I am going to learn from the best.”

  “I’m not sure—” began Marsden.

  “His ghost is fractured,” interjected Sairis. “A spirit splintered for decades like that? He’s never going to be sane!”

  “Well, he deserves to die,” said Candice frankly. “He’s done terrible things.”

  Hastafel looked completely lost now. He was staring at his own hands. He got to his feet and turned in a slow circle, looking at the carnage of a battlefield as though he’d never seen such a thing before. “Where are the goats?” he whispered.

  “Look at me,” said Candice, and he turned obediently.

  Hastafel’s face cleared and there was a flash of the warlord. “You...contacted me. I thought...”

  “Yes, you told me exactly what to write,” said Candice. “Your younger self told me. He contacted me in the mirrors. You were good at magic, even back then. It’s a bad idea to be your own worst enemy, Phillip.”

  Hastafel opened his mouth as though to say something angry, then clasped both hands to his head and moaned. He doubled over again.

  “You do deserve to die,” continued Candice, “but you are going to live. Because I deserve a teacher. Inside that broken head of yours is everything I need to know about being a sorcerer. There aren’t many of us in the world, and you’re the best. So that is what you are going to do. After I put a proper collar on you.”

  “I am the one who will decide that.” Daphne had ridden up. Sairis couldn’t tell how much she’d heard, but clearly enough. “That man has caused immeasurable trouble, and you’re not taking him anywhere, Candice.”

  Candice gave Daphne a sly smile. “Queen Daphne. I hope we can have pleasant dealings in the future. However, I am sorry to tell you that, yes, I am taking this sorcerer and leaving. I’ll see that he never bothers you again.” She stepped back, took Phillip by the arm, and vanished.

  Daphne groaned. “Marsden,
tell me they’re just invisible.”

  Marsden cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. She had a one-way jump spell. I learned about it when we helped each other during the fire. It’s a single use gate. She could have gone anywhere.”

  Daphne made an exasperated sound. Behind her, sheepish-looking soldiers were forming up, trying to pretend they’d been ready to take on demons and wizards all along.

  Daphne glared at Marsden a moment longer, but he looked back without a flicker. “Were you to hazard a guess at where she’s gone,” said Daphne with sarcasm, “where would that be?”

  Marsden pursed his lips. “My guess would be very far from Mistala, Your Grace.”

  Daphne nodded. After a moment, she said, “Well, I believe we may say we have won the war.”

  “I believe that is true, Your Grace.”

  Sairis looked down and saw that the tower was in ruins, its reflection fading fast. As he watched, it melted away into ordinary sky, and the last of the sunset colors glowed in the remains of his wave. He let out a long breath, tension draining from his body. He still felt heavy, though. He suspected he would feel that way for a while.

  Roland slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Sairis reached up to cover Roland’s callused hand. He thought he should say something like, “I love you. I’m so glad you’re alive,” but instead, he said, “May I borrow Cato for a while?”

  “Certainly. What are you borrowing him for?”

  “I need to go home. I need to bury my master.”

  “Oh.” A moment’s surprised silence. “Do you know for sure that he’s—?”

  “Yes. Marsden can tell you about it. Right now, I just...I need to go home, Roland.”

  Roland walked him over to the horse. “I’ll come with you. Let me get you supplies, food...”

  “I’ll stop by the wagons,” said Sairis. I’ll live on magic if I have to. I’ve got plenty right now. He pressed his fingers hard into the bridge of his nose to stop the stinging. My teacher went down the River so that I didn’t have to. Aloud, he said, “I don’t want company right now, Roland.”