Serpent's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 3)

by D J Salisbury

  The club whistled past him and thudded beside his head. The fur-covered form wielding it grunted.

  Short, but taller than Tsai’dona. Round, or so covered in a dark fur coat it looked fat. A stranger, certainly. From a local village? He hadn’t seen any signs of one.

  One-handed, it hefted the club up again.

  Viper scrambled upright. “What’s wrong with you? I don’t have anything worth stealing.” Except his serdil-pelt cloak. “Why attack me?”

  “You owe me,” a man’s voice croaked. He swung the club again.

  Viper jumped forward, grabbed his assailant’s wrist with both hands, and squeezed. He pinched his gloved thumbs into the man’s bared flesh.

  The man yelped. His club thumped into the snow. “Let go, blasphemer! I’ll call the Dragon down to eat you!” He yanked Viper into the air and spun him in circles.

  Viper gritted his teeth and held on. His toes carved arcs in the snow.

  Call down a dragon? The lard lizard must be Paduan. Why had a Paduan followed him?

  The man slapped at him with his free hand, but none of the blows landed solidly.

  If felt as if he were being swatted with rolled up fabric.

  The sandcrab spun him around again.

  His padded boot scraped off and tumbled across the snow. Blast and sandblast! Well, he hadn’t planned on running, anyway.

  His attacker froze and stared at his footless ankle. “We are both marked by the evil one.”

  Viper sagged into the snow, but clung tighter to the man’s wrist. “What?”

  “If you swear to obey me and to fight the evil one, I won’t kill you.” The sand lizard poked at him with his free hand.

  Nothing but fur touched him. There was no hand inside the sleeve.

  “Oh, no, you’re the slaver who tried to chain up my friends.” Or tried to capture Lorel. He had chained up Tsai’dona.

  This was the slaver Lorel thought she’d killed. The one-armed man.

  He was in so much trouble.

  No. He wasn’t helpless. He could fight off this chunk of carrion. “Go stuff yourself into a chamberpot.”

  “So be it, slave.” The worm-tongued jackal whirled and spun him around again.

  Didn’t he have any other tactics? Praise the Thunderer, with only one hand the sandcrab couldn’t knife him.

  The slaver dragged him a few feet farther and dropped to his knees. His stumpy arm pawed at the snow.

  Blast, the man was after his club again.

  Viper yanked his assailant’s arm to his mouth and bit into the man’s wrist.

  The slaver screamed.

  Blood squirted into Viper’s mouth, up his nose, into his hair.

  Power swirled inside his head.

  Magic? Here? Where had that come from?

  The slaver fought to free himself. He grabbed Viper’s hair and pounded his head into the snow. Blood from his torn wrist splattered everywhere, crimson on crystalline white.

  Icy pain shot through Viper’s skull. His head felt like it was pounding through the ice into the permafrost.

  He snorted gore out of his nostrils and bit down harder. He hammered his knees into the slaver’s body.

  The sandcrab was so focused on his bloody wrist he didn’t seem to notice the assault on his gut. Blast. Maybe he wore so many layers of fur he didn’t even feel it.

  He certainly felt his wrist. Viper dug his teeth in deeper.

  “Blasphemer!” The slaver hauled him up out of the snow and slammed him against a boulder.

  Lavender mist drifted up through the ice. Red and gold stars glittered around him. Pain roared up his spine, out through his ribs. Only his own layers of furs and wool saved him from broken bones. He fought to concentrate on the fight, to find a way to save himself. Could he use magic?

  The slaver’s aura flared, its muddy browns oozing into dull orange smudges.

  Power swept out of Viper’s mind. Purple talons clawed at the man’s murky aura.

  Wait! Stop! He hadn’t meant to do that. What was going on?

  The uncontrolled spell chomped down on the slaver’s aura. Strength oozed into Viper’s body.

  Blood magic. Thunderer protect him, he’d created blood magic. He’d thought only necromancers could use blood magic. He had to stop it before he killed this man.

  Blood magic was evil enough. Death magic would be unforgivable. Sheer, repulsive insanity.

  He forced the spell to disperse and dragged the magic back inside of him. The power released the slaver’s aura slowly, reluctantly.

  The man stood stiffly and stared at him like a new-hatched chick might gaze into the eyes of a hungry snake. His hand grew limp and lost its grip on Viper’s hair.

  Viper tore his teeth out of the slaver’s wrist and rolled out of reach.

  The man sank to his knees. Everything about him seemed paler, his hair, his skin, even the bloody fur coat. Slowly he toppled over and lay in the snow. And stopped breathing.

  Lightning blast it. Lightning blast himself. He’d killed the man with magic. He could feel the power hovering around him, waiting for him to use it. Waiting for him to become a Death Mage. A necromancer.

  He couldn’t be a necromancer. Only wizards had that power. The slaver’s death was an accident, brought on because he’d been so close to dying, himself. He didn’t have the strength or training to be a necromancer.

  He swallowed hard, and tasted blood on his lips, in his mouth, up his nose. Bile rose up his throat. He had to get rid of the blood. Had to.

  Washing his face with snow hurt, but he barely felt the cold. He scrubbed and scrubbed, rolled over to reach fresh snow, and scrubbed some more.

  But there was blood all over him. In his hair, down his coat, under his shirt, even inside his gloves. Blood all over the serdil-pelt cloak. He could barely stand the sight of all that blood. The stickiness against his skin. The metallic stench inside his mouth.

  He desperately wished the blood would dry up and blow away.

  The hovering power pounced. Wind whipped around him.

  Blood vanished.

  Just vanished. All of it, even from the snow all around him.

  Even from the dried up corpse.

  Viper crouched forward and threw up. He’d murdered that man, with magic. Not cleanly, with a blade. Not honorably, with a weapon. With magic.

  He was a Death Wizard.

  Hysterical giggles shook him. How could a second-level sorcerer be a death mage? He was only an apprentice, or would be, if he had a teacher. He was decades away from becoming any kind of wizard. If he lived that long.

  Which he wouldn’t, if he sat here in the snow much longer. The artic wind was killing him. And he really did want to live. He had too much work to do to quit now.

  He wasn’t evil.

  He looked around until he located his missing boot, and crawled over to it. After shaking out the snow, he yanked it on. Sandblast it, the cold made his stump burn! But it was a good pain. It meant he was still alive.

  He never meant to kill that man. Never meant to use that magic. It was an accident.

  Turning his back on the now-bone-white corpse, Viper squared his shoulders, wrapped his cloak tightly around him, and began limping up the mountainside.

  Chapter 14.

  Two days after the kid wandered in from the dark – with no explanation of why he’d been out there alone, or why he was all covered in bruises – the noodle brain stopped shivering long enough to admit he could drive again.

  Collecting enough firewood to warm him up was a pain in the butt.

  But five more days of heavy snow made traveling a lot harder. It was up to her to find a decent path for the fraying wagon.

  Well, up to her and Tsai, but Tsai knew less about mountains than she did.

  No road, no guides, no map. Go northwest, the kid said, we’ll find the ocean eventually. The little turtle turd.

  ***

  Viper stood up on the driver’s bench and searched the snowy peaks ahead. In th
e predawn light, he found it hard to distinguish the features he needed before they could move on. He cupped his hands around his eyes. That didn’t help a bit.

  The team dozed in the traces, waiting for him to choose a path. Lorel was somewhere behind the wagon, crooning to her horse. At least, that’s what he hoped she was singing to. If she was singing rites to her Weaver, they were in more trouble than he thought.

  No matter who she was singing to, she wouldn’t be quiet much longer. He had to locate a path before she lost her temper.

  Tsai’dona watched him patiently. He never would figure out what she was thinking.

  He looked back, over his right shoulder. Lava spilled down a distant volcano in a scarlet river, turning the hazy clouds above it pink and orange. Even though at least three mountains stood between it and him, he swore he could feel the lava’s heat on his face.

  He pulled up his hood and turned west. Snow and mountains and more snow. He needed to find a solid ridge. The wagon would never make it up the goat trails that Lorel favored.

  Viper sat down on the bench and lifted the wagon door a few inches. “Kyridon?”

  Seconds later, the Dreshin Viper eased its serdil-coated head through the opening. “This one attends the hatchling.” A plume of icy steam billowed from its mouth.

  He smothered a giggle. The idea of a furry serpent still amused him. “I need some help.”

  “This one harkens to the hatchling.”

  “I’m stumped.” He gestured at the peaks ahead. “I need to find a path through those mountains, one that the wagon can take, but I don’t see anything.”

  The Kyridon stared at him.

  Viper tilted his head. “I know you want me to figure things out on my own, but a little advice would be useful.”

  The serpent’s blue eyes peered into his own. It seemed to have stopped breathing.

  “I need to find a ridge. A path?”

  The Kyridon pulled its head back inside the wagon. The door slammed shut.

  Viper sighed and leaned against the door. “So much for that notion.”

  Had it refused to help, or didn’t it understand the question? It was hard to tell. He suspected it went silent whenever it didn’t know an answer.

  He clambered up to stand on the bench again. He inspected the slopes minutely, hoping he’d missed something.

  A speck of jade green glimmered on a mountain to the north.

  Viper blinked and looked again. “That wasn’t there a minute ago! At least, I don’t think it was.”

  Tsai’dona glanced up at him. “What wasn’t?”

  The green patch stretched.

  He rubbed his eyes. He shook his head until his hood flopped back. He peered at the mountain slope.

  Green jade streaked up, soared around the peak. It spiraled high above the mountain and flew away to the southwest.

  “Just our luck.” He pointed up at the creature. “We’re headed through dragon territory.”

  “Bog swallow it.” Tsai’dona slapped her thigh. “Don’t we have enough problems?”

  Lorel shouted, “What’s wrong now?”

  An explosion roared behind them.

  The team reared and pawed the air, but didn’t try to move the wagon. They seemed more joyous than afraid.

  Tsai’dona grabbed her mare’s reins and dragged the trembling horse’s head down. “Easy, Sumach. No danger here, old girl.”

  He started to look back at the volcano, but shaded his eyes and stared forward instead.

  Dim red light flowed across the snow. For one brief moment, a ridge glimmered pink against the white mountain.

  Success at last. He laughed aloud.

  Lorel trotted up to the driver’s platform, leading her dancing stallion. “What’s so funny?”

  “Hmm?” Viper glanced down at her and grinned. “The Kyridon told me a joke.”

  Tsai’dona snorted and heaved herself into the mare’s saddle.

  “The toad? Ain’t likely.”

  “Mount up.” He waved at the stallion’s back. “I need to show you the route so you can check ahead.”

  “Weaver’s cold toes!” Lorel swung into the saddle and stood up in the stirrups. “Show me. I’m tired of waiting for sunrise. I’m thinking it ain’t gonna get here.”

  He sighed. “I’m thinking you’re probably right.” It did seem darker than it had been just a few minutes ago, but there was enough light to travel. “See that ridge over there?”

  Lorel nodded and kneed her horse into a trot. Tsai’dona waved at him and followed in her tracks.

  “Let’s go, earth children.” Viper sat down on the bench and jiggled the reins.

  Poppy whickered and Periwinkle swished his tail irritably. With a low groan, the serdil-coated wagon rumbled down the slope.

  ***

  Lorel urged Nightshade up the last few feet to the summit of the crag. His hooves crunched through crisp snow as he lunged uphill. His muscles heaved with thrilling power, and she leaned forward to revel in his strength. And to help him balance.

  On days like this, riding was the best thing on the Loom.

  At the top of the rise she leaned back in the saddle to let him know it was time to stop. The stallion’s breath billowed into frosted clouds around them both. Gentle fingers of wind carried the mist away.

  Ahead lay the kid’s the fraying ridge, and it was nearly as level and wide as Imperial Boulevard.

  How had he known? She glanced down the slope at the slug-sized wagon. Its wheel tracks oozed across the snowy mountain like a slime trail.

  Tsai rode up beside her and shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

  Lorel nodded. He’d done it again. The kid just stared at the forest for a while, and pointed up the mountain. Go look there for a path, he’d said.

  And here it was. Exactly where he’d said. An easy way for the wagon, almost as flat as a real road.

  If the kid could get the miswoven cart up here.

  Snowflakes whispered past her ears. The chilly breeze felt refreshing after so many days in the quiet valley.

  She tried to measure the wagon’s progress. Slow, but pretty steady, winding back and forth around trees and boulders. The horses didn’t move like they were straining. She’d never once seen any lather on them. She gave the kid full credit for that, considering he knew almost nothing about horses. He was good at pacing the team. They sure seemed to trust him.

  Lorel stood tall in the stirrups and checked their back trail. The kid could follow Sumach and Nightshade’s tracks in the snow easy enough. She snorted at herself. With no other hoof prints around, he couldn’t miss their trail, no matter how dense he was about forest stuff. “He ain’t noodle brained enough to wander off after a deer.”

  Tsai snickered. “If it’s not carrying a book, he’s pretty safe.”

  Nightshade stomped impatiently.

  Lorel relaxed the reins. “We better find out how far the ridge stays level, and what the terrain looks like when it runs out.”

  Tsai nodded and clucked at Sumach. Together they rode along the narrow ridge.

  The kid couldn’t get too lost.

  ˜™

  Viper squinted up the slope into big, blowing snowflakes. He thought he saw Nightshade on the ridge he had pointed out to Lorel, but he wasn’t sure.

  The dark figures moved out of sight. Yes, that had to be the girls. They hopped around worse than fleas.

  He stared at the broken snow ahead of the team. A herd of large beasts had tramped through the area recently. He couldn’t see the horses’ tracks at all.

  Of course, he wasn’t certain he’d recognize hoof prints in two-foot-deep snow without crawling to the ground to inspect them.

  He sighed to himself. He really should go to the trouble of studying animal track types. It might come in useful at some point. But he didn’t own a book on the subject, and he’d rather not ask Lorel. She’d laugh at him, even if she didn’t know any more than he did.

  Viper yanked his mind back to th
e task at hand. The team had decided to follow the herd’s trail. He shrugged and left them to it. The tracks seemed to be headed to the ridge, and he’d lost the horses’ trail hours ago.

  At least he was headed in the right direction.

  ***

  Lorel sniffed at the mist rising out of the little valley. Stinky eggs. More hot springs!

  Sing to the Weaver, what a great find! The kid had said they might come across more hot springs, because of the volcanoes. She wasn’t too clear on the connection, but she was looking forward to another hot bath.

  The kid would jump over the Loom with joy. Him and his love affair with bathtubs. Kyri-thing would be even happier. The poor critter never did warm up all the way, these days.

  Fluffy snowflakes melted on her face. Lorel glanced up at the charcoal clouds. She suspected a real storm was moving in, something bigger than the pesky snows they’d put up with for ages. This valley seemed well protected, but wind howled up on the ridge.

  “Big storm coming in.” She reined Nightshade closer to Sumach. “We better find the kid and hustle him along. If he finds one blade of grass the team wants to munch on, he’ll stop for them.”

  “The horses’ll have to make do with grain again. Maybe some bushes, if we’re lucky.” Tsai pointed ahead, into the valley. “That looks like a defensible campsite, between those boulders and one of the steaming springs. Maybe even some grass for the horses.”

  Lorel studied the terrain and nodded to herself. She’d be able to find that spot at midnight, if she had to.

  “I’ll go fetch the kid.” She turned Nightshade around and headed back the way they’d come. “You go on down and scout out a clean stream. I hate melting enough snow to water the horses.”

  ***

  Viper clapped his hand over his eyes and tried to peek between his gloved fingers. Snow pelted his chin like stinging bees. He dropped the reins and yanked his hood closer to his face.

  Where was the lightning-blasted ridge? He should have reached it an hour ago.

  Of course, he might be on it. The team trudged onward with no guidance from him. Were they walking blind, with their eyelids frozen shut?