by R. K. Thorne
No, it didn’t matter. He was second-guessing himself again. He had been trying to study the mages, but he wasn’t even paying attention. He redoubled his focus.
None of the three mages looked particularly comfortable about the assignment, but none of them had that rebellious streak in their eyes either. The young blond one looked determined not to meet Daes’s gaze. The oldest one stared off into space, shoulders stooped, long ago defeated. The tall, dark-haired one studied the room with curiosity. None of them gave him any explicit reason for concern.
Perhaps he should give them a reason for concern.
“You have seven days.”
Now the oldest one looked up, slight alarm in his eyes. “Seven days?” He glanced at his colleagues nervously. Neither of the younger men reacted.
“What, too long?” Daes said with a wicked smile. The fool blanched. “Seven days.” Daes kept his voice hard as iron. The older man hung his head as if he’d accepted a death sentence. Daes wanted to give him a good shove. He barely held the urge in check. If one thought the battle was lost before it had even begun, one was sure to lose. Should he get a replacement for this one already? But this oldest mage was also the most experienced, so he decided to let it slide. If the spineless husk was still looking like he would have a heart attack at the end of the second day, perhaps then Daes might take some action.
Daes’s smile grew to a grin. “You had better get to work.”
Chapter 8
Demonstration
Miara sliced another section of apple and held it out. The white mare chomped happily away. Her mane was striking, her demeanor calm. All these things steadied Miara’s nerves. The demonstration was to start any moment now, but she’d stolen away for a few moments to herself.
She wasn’t hiding. She was just… gathering her strength. Searching for a way to convince herself that she was not in far over her head and about to do something entirely stupid and dangerous. Of course, she’d been quite talented at doing some stupid and dangerous things and getting away with them.
But none of those had required an audience.
She forced a deep breath. Gods, what was she thinking? She was just a horse healer, and that glorified how she’d spent most of her life. It didn’t take a mage to muck a stall. Right now, she would have preferred that chore to what she needed to do.
Someone’s eyes were on her now, she realized. Warden Asten had appeared at the back of the stall and was eying her.
Oh. “This your horse?” Miara said.
Asten nodded, approaching with more caution than Miara would have expected.
“She’s beautiful. I gave her some apple, I hope you don’t mind.” Gods, she should have asked first. She hadn’t thought she’d get caught, but she should have either way. And she should have realized they’d all be gathering down here anyway. Great, she was already estranging the very people she needed to win over.
“Thank you,” Asten said, holding out a hand. Miara sliced another section of apple and gave it to her. Well, perhaps no harm done after all. The mare chomped loudly. “She’s a fine steed, from the Delagosan line out of Dramsren.” Did Asten expect her to know this, or was she simply making conversation? She could only hope it was just small talk.
“I never saw anything so fine in Kavanar,” Miara replied. “Mostly Southern Beylans and Hepani Creams out that way.”
Asten nodded again, smiling. “Makes sense, if you don’t need a warhorse.”
“No wonder she’s so calm with a stranger feeding her an apple.”
“She hasn’t seen much battle. But we’re ready, when the day comes. Which may be sooner than later, I fear.”
Miara frowned. She hadn’t been paying the horse’s health much mind. Some horse healer she was. She needed her strength for what they’d planned, but… Perhaps she could stave off an ailment that might critically weaken the mare in the battles to come. “Well, let me give her a look, eh?” Miara skimmed her mind over the mare, first her skin, then shoulders, stomach and all those inner workings, down to her legs and hooves. A fine steed, indeed, and in very good health. Oh, but the back hoof— “She having any problems with this leg?” Miara pointed at the back left one.
Asten frowned. “I noted a bit of a change to her gait on the last stretch of the way here, but nothing specific to one leg yet.”
Miara nodded and handed the apple to Asten. “Takes time for the signs to show in the hooves, all too often.”
“Indeed, it’s a shame how many a horse is brought low by injuries so suddenly.” Asten cut off her own slice of the apple to give to the mare.
Miara stepped around the warden and caressed the mare’s side as she stepped back a few feet. There, she could grasp it now—tiny bits of life squirmed on the hoof’s left side that didn’t belong there. To her mind, the hoof felt fiery, oozing.
She beckoned the mare to lift the hoof and winced at the sight. “Ah, beginning of an abscess here. Well, lucky we caught this, or it might have slowed you down.” The wounds were hard to catch until the horse was damn near lame and unwilling to walk, and could take weeks to resolve without magical assistance.
Should she wait till after the demonstration? No. The gods didn’t give her these abilities only to raise eyebrows and drop jaws. She poured a small amount of energy into the natural resistance of the hoof and guided the tiny squirming bits out and away. Probing further, she’d probably stepped on something, maybe a nail. With a touch more magic carefully placed, the slice in the heel began to close. Even that small effort was more than was needed, as the mare attested by stamping the now hot foot.
Aven’s voice caught her ears. Not calling for her yet, but talking to someone in the courtyard. Enough hiding—er, gathering her strength. Searching for calm. Right.
“It should be healed now, but keep a watch on it,” she said, patting the mare. “If you notice something more, I can look at it again in a few days. I think they are getting ready for us.”
“Uh, thank you, Miara. And I believe they’re getting ready for you, in particular,” Asten said.
Thanks for the reminder, she thought. She stalked toward the center of the stable ground, where the horses were turned out for exercise. Asten followed, half an apple in hand.
Aven caught her eyes from the back of the crowd. He was standing with that damn dvora, clad in a pristine sky blue. Miara had cast aside thoughts of queenly politics for her clothing today, not that she’d embraced them very well in the first place. She wore the leathers of a royal guardsman she’d convinced Camil to track down. She was not demonstrating magic in a courtly affair. This was war. Aven’s gaze flicked to her hand—oh, she’d forgotten to sheathe the knife. Did that look odd without the apple as explanation? Oh well, too late now.
She stopped in the center of the ring before them. The king, Assembly members, advisers, arms masters, and a bevy of stewards and servants had gathered. Wonderful. Many were still chatting, although a few stopped and waited at the sight of her.
Siliana and Derk joined her, one on each side. Miara took a deep breath and squinted at the crowd, lifting her jaw, straightening her shoulders, and readying herself.
To her surprise, the rest of the crowd quickly quieted at this gesture.
“King Samul and Prince Aven have requested that the three of us give you some education in magic,” she said. She chose her words carefully, wanting them to feel drawn in, that they would now have the knowledge all mages did. “We’ve prepared a few training tasks for you with relevance to war. As such, they may seem dangerous, and they are, but we assure you, you will be in no mortal danger at any time.”
“Only we will be,” Derk muttered.
Miara silenced him with a glance. She was the one with the riskiest task, why was he complaining? “Ready?” she said, glancing at Siliana now. Both mages nodded.
Time to light the firewood and see what happened.
“Siliana, something to burn, please?” Miara asked.
The other mage responded, rais
ing a dozen patches of tall, dryish grass from the dull earth. It waved in the mountain wind. Or was it Aven’s? She hoped it was.
“Derk,” she barked. He stepped forward, thankfully cooperative. “Light them.”
A crisp nod, and the grass burst into flames. Forms in the crowd shifted, growing uncomfortable. Good. They should be.
“Care to put it out?” she asked.
The smile of a child invited to play with a flint striker took over Derk’s face as the first peal of thunder rumbled above them.
“Siliana. Something more to burn. I don’t think Derk’s been adequately challenged.”
“On it.” Saplings of three young oak trees curled from the ground to the far left, startling the crowd. Even as they grew, flames appeared and licked the branches.
Drops of rain fell. He was an apprentice, and the storm wasn’t so neat that it didn’t hit the crowd. Sorin could have done better, but she was annoyed for even thinking of that fool. She’d much prefer Derk’s company to Sorin’s at this point, and that said a lot.
The rain fell on the flaming plants, gradually extinguishing them.
“And now the lightning, if you please, Derk,” she ordered. And again, thankfully, he complied. A crack and flash of light split the air, and suddenly the sapling—which had grown into a small tree nearly as thick as her thigh—exploded, shards flying.
Miara opened her mouth but stopped an oath in time. Too hot. Figured that a mage like Derk would have little control. Thankfully, she had enough control not to curse him in front of all these people.
He surprised her by being competent enough to send a gust of air toward the lords. The gust sent some off-balance but also flung the wood away, keeping it from impaling anyone.
Dom stalked into the ring, bow in hand. She was worried the Assembly members wouldn’t spot him as they watched the rain or stared at the shards of tree that could have killed them, but Beneral pointed out the new arrival.
Dom drew the bow back and fired three arrows at Derk in rapid succession. The air mage held up a palm as if it would shield him, and in seconds, two arrows met an early end in the dirt, and the third turned to cinder midair.
Miara’s turn. She stepped forward and waited as the chaos calmed. Eventually, all eyes were on her. The rain had calmed, the flames were out. Only the wind clanging the stable doors met her ears. She’d never sheathed her dagger, she realized. Well, all the better to prepare them for what they were about to see.
Without hesitation, she plunged the dagger into her left side and dragged it to the right, slicing a gash the length of two hands across her torso. She staggered back as a wave of pain hit her, then dropped to her knees. Horrified gasps and murmurs flitted through the crowd.
Miara struggled to focus above the cries of warning from her body for a moment, but her eyes locked on the nearest dubious noble—Lady Toyl. The merchant wore a fine cloak of pale blue and a dress the shade of the sky before a storm, and her brown hair swayed in the mountain wind.
“Is this a real wound, my lady?” Miara called. “Would you care to come inspect it?”
“Real enough to get blood on my cloak,” she grunted. Her gruff attempt at indifference seemed a cover for the shock and touch of unsettled panic lurking behind her eyes. Even Alikar’s hardened visage had melted into horror. The king’s gaze remained stoic. “I’ll observe from here, thank you,” Toyl said.
Miara withdrew the dagger from her gut and tossed it at the feet of the crowd. The blood came quickly now, and other things too, and she would have to heal herself soon. “Would anyone else care to examine it?”
Asten strode forth and fell to her own knees before Miara, her face creased with concern. Asten’s gaze flicked from the wound to Miara’s face and back, but the warden did not recoil from the blood. How often would lightning strikes come in handy in war, Miara wondered as she stared into the warden’s icy blue eyes. Hopefully, the universal usefulness of healing should be inarguable.
“I don’t doubt you,” Asten said quietly. “But I must perform my due diligence.” She crouched and rose, returning to the crowd.
Miara waited one moment longer. She caught Aven’s eye, his expression one of near terror as he squinted in the harsh overcast light. The air around her twitched, jolted. Was this his energy, or the earth’s? He gave her a nod of support.
Enough time. Enough pain. She shut her eyes and began closing the wound. Healing it seared almost more than the initial injury, although at least she had no bones to pop back into place. Organs globbed back together, skin pulling tight across it all, leaving no trace. She growled through the pain as she felt Siliana approach and rest her hand on Miara’s shoulder, feeding her a slight stream of supportive energy. The growl grew to a roar before she finally fell forward on her hands and knees, panting, exhausted.
It was done.
Siliana continued to push energy, pillaging the mountain trees and flora to feed her. Miara accepted it gratefully. They’d made sure energy would be adequate here, plentiful even. If the plants did not fill the need, they could also tap the horses, the crowd, passing birds. They were as far as possible from the Great Stone.
But it was still a massive wound she’d inflicted on herself.
The pain eased, and she regained her composure. Still kneeling, she wiped away some of the blood with a red cloth Camil had dug up, particularly so the lords could see clearly her regrown skin. She was a bloody mess, and her insides were still sorting themselves out, but that skin was clear and smooth as the snow on the mountain.
“And now, my lady?” she asked Toyl.
Lord Alikar stood just behind the assemblywoman, glaring at Miara, as if he were still determined to believe this was a trick. Figured. Or perhaps he just thought he was in the presence of utter evil. She wasn’t sure which she thought more moronic.
One of Toyl’s eyebrows arched. “I see no wound. Impressive.”
“Thank you.” She bit the words out as if to say, you’re right, you sure as hell don’t. She glanced at the king. His expression was stern, unreadable.
Miara hoped this risk, this effort would be worth it. Energy continued to drain from her as her body reeled with the effort. If she lost consciousness, Siliana should be able to finish the job, and Elise could too, in a dire emergency. It should be safe enough, but the flow of energy could be hard to judge between two people, as she and Aven had seen so well. He had been inexperienced, and the wound they healed far more fatal and damaging than these. But still.
Miara felt herself lose her balance a bit and fall to one side. She had lost track of her body in the vicious transfer of energy. No. She did not want help from the real queen for this. It would do little to convince others of either the power of her magic or of her leadership potential if she collapsed unconscious, a husk bereft of energy, cast aside on the pale dirt of the stable.
And then—suddenly, to her relief—it was enough. Her stores were replenished, her mind clearing as she felt hands steadying her, lifting her up. Gods, let it not be Derk.
She blinked open bleary eyes—when had they closed?—to see Aven’s face. She smiled, although she could feel eyes watching him touching her. Would the king disapprove?
How did we do? she whispered to him. Should we keep going?
You are an extraordinary woman, Miara Floren. How many of them do you think could do what you just did? You scared the piss out of them. Gods and ancestors, you’re bloody. I think that’s very much enough for now.
No vines?
Oh, yes, let’s forget those vines forever, unless you have other goals in mind for them.
His eyes twinkled as she straightened herself. Thankfully, Derk had quieted the storm without needing to be told to and had helped Siliana to her feet as well. Miara felt too exhausted to stride over to the crowd. Hopefully the lords and ladies could see well enough from where they were. She leaned on Aven and closed her eyes.
“I hope this has been informative for all of you,” Aven called over the whispers as
they stared. “I believe our mages are quite exhausted now and will need to rest.”
“Can you do all that, Aven?” Asten asked, an edge to her voice. Miara couldn’t read if it was hope or fear, and the warden’s deadly serious expression revealed little. Funny, she hadn’t seemed so serious by her mare. A soft spot for her?
“Not all of that, not yet,” he replied.
Oh, who cared if the man could call lightning if he could free an entire people? Miara wanted to snap. But it was a good question. And who knew which answer they had wanted to hear? They might fear a king who could start spontaneous fires, and she couldn’t blame them. But Aven would learn, and they didn’t know him half as well as she did if they thought he would abuse such powers.
“My lord?” Toyl called now, her voice loud enough to be heard over the wind that was picking up.
“Yes, Lady Toyl?” Aven answered, a sharpness to his voice.
“May I speak with you privately after this?” she called. “With our attendants, of course.”
Aven nodded. “I will find you shortly.” On the surface, Aven remained composed, but she could see the smallest twitch in his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth. She could feel the hope he kept bridled under the surface.
“Thank you all for coming,” Aven said. “Let us retire. Looks like our fine apprentice has stirred up more than just a baby storm for show.”
“A baby storm!” Derk grumbled. He held Siliana’s arm as they headed toward the main gate. She had given nearly as much as Miara in the end, although with less bloodletting. She leaned heavily on Derk as the thrill of the moment wore off. “That was a work of artistry! It takes control to keep it small and contained. I had nothing to do with this nonsense sweeping in. Don’t you blame that on me; I wanted to go for another ride away from this stinking place after this!”
