Wild Magic

by Tamora Pierce

  “Not anymore!” Daine said emphatically.

  Onua grinned. “I have trouble seeing you play soldier, even so odd a soldier as the Riders turn out.”

  Later, tucked into a bed next to Miri’s, Daine thought Onua was probably right. It must be hard, having to account for every minute of the day as the trainees did. Why, she’d never get to meet any new animals!

  Dozing off, she woke abruptly, feeling trapped. At first she didn’t even remember where she was. Sitting up, she looked around: the five girl trainees were in their beds, asleep. The barracks were silent.

  If she didn’t get some air, she’d suffocate.

  A window opened over her bed. She pried the shutters apart in time to hear a watchman’s distant cry: “The midnight hour, and all is well!”

  Her bed was too soft after so much sleeping on the ground. She cursed under her breath and took blankets and pillow to the floor That at least was firm, and the air was cooler too. She waited for sleep again.

  Miri turned over and said clearly, “But I love to ride.” Daine sat up to peer at her. The girl was fast asleep.

  She lay back. The badger’s claw weighed heavy on her chest. When she turned onto her side, the thong half-choked her. She eased it and closed her eyes. Sheets and blankets rustled. A blond girl who had snubbed her in the baths snored. Another tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before she settled. Outside, Daine heard a dog’s bark.

  A headache grew in her temples. She missed having animals close by. At home, she’d had a ground-floor room. Even in winter she left the shutters open a crack, and never slept cold. Her friends always kept her warm.

  Disgusted, she grabbed her breeches from the chest in front of her bed. Her traveling gear was there, including her bedroll. It was the work of a second to dress and stuff her feet into boots. With her bedroll under her arm, she slipped downstairs and outside.

  The night air was a relief. She inhaled the scents of field and forest happily, feeling sleepy and content as she crossed the open pasture. The tree that had sheltered the shy ponies that afternoon was there, the ground underneath mercifully free of manure. She spread out her bedroll and, already half-asleep, crawled in. Cloud lay down to support her back. Someone—a pony she didn’t know—lipped the foot of her covers.

  “This is much better,” Daine said. “Good night, everybody.” Falling asleep, she knew the free ponies had come to stand nearby and keep her company.

  In her dream, she walked down the road with Onua. Instead of ponies, they led people—the trainees—in chains. The night air was thick and sour, and marsh creatures made an incredible noise.

  The noise stopped abruptly, cut off. Onua halted. “What’s that?”

  A stench fell on them in waves. “Stormwings!” Daine cried.

  She was awake and sitting up. Dawn shone between clouds in the east. The ponies milled nearby, restless and afraid. She drew a deep breath, feeling air pour into her chest like soup. Lurching to her feet, she peered overhead. The sky was empty, but that meant nothing. They were coming.

  She dragged her boots on and ran for the building; the ponies ran with her. “Ho, the barracks!” she yelled, knowing she was too far away. “Riders!” On the second floor a window was open—her own. “Miri! Onua, wake up!”

  A tousled head appeared. “Daine, what’s wrong?” Kuri yelled.

  “Get Onua!” Daine screamed. “Tell her Stormwings are coming!” She gasped for breath. At her back she felt wrongness surge.

  Kuri vanished from the window. The girl turned, knowing she could never reach the barracks in time. They rose from the trees, the sun’s first thin rays striking off metal wings. The familiar stink fell over her.

  Zhaneh Bitterclaws led her flock, homing in on Daine. “Kill it!” she screeched. Her left eye was a black and oozing ruin. “Kill this beast!”

  More than fifty Stormwings stooped to the attack. Cold with terror, Daine crouched against the ground. Cloud reared, ordering the Stormwing queen to come down and fight like a horse. Steel claws groped for her as the mare struck at the creature with her hooves. The ponies crowded around Daine, lunging at the Stormwings when they came too close.

  Goddess, Horse Lords, get me out of this and I will never, ever sleep without a bow again, she promised.

  Tahoi raced onto the field with a pack of hounds, all of them as big as he was. More dogs followed, baying. Seeing rocks nearby, three of them as big as her fist, Daine grabbed them. Her first struck Zhaneh Bitterclaws square on the nose.

  “There, you monster!” she yelled, shaking her fist at the Stormwings. “Come close, so I can do it again!” A little dog that came with the hounds wove in and out of the ponies’ hooves to bring her more ammunition.

  Black fire filled with silver lights wrapped around a Stormwing. The creature struggled, trying to throw it off: the fire crept into its mouth and blew it apart. More clouds of black fire chased Stormwings to kill them.

  Darkmoon came, saddled and trailing his reins. He leaped to seize a Stormwing by the leg. Shaking his prize like a terrier, he snapped its neck.

  Other war-horses followed. Behind them ran Sarge in only a breechclout, armed with a fistful of javelins. He threw the first with a yell. Daine gaped when a Stormwing dropped, trying to drag the weapon from its chest. The black man fixed on a new target and waited for his best shot, as calm as he’d been at lunch. Each time he threw, a Stormwing went down.

  Onua raced onto the field in her nightgown, her small bow and quiver in her hands. She had an arrow on the string: lining up her shot, she dropped the Stormwing that was her target. Zhaneh Bitterclaws saw the K’mir and screeched her triumph as she attacked.

  Daine yelled. Half of the animals went to Onua, ringing her as the others ringed Daine. More horses and dogs leaped the fence to cover Sarge.

  Purple fire—Alanna’s magic—appeared, weaving a net around a pair of attackers. They screamed and beat at it uselessly: it dragged them to earth and the hounds. Thunder that was more than thunder pealed. The dogs howled—Daine clapped her hands over smarting ears. The Stormwings shrieked, trying to do the same thing with their steel feathers. Blue lightning darted from the top of the field, consuming each Stormwing it struck.

  Near the fence a bearded man in shirt and breeches was the source of the blue fire. It shone around him, and pooled in his hands. Beside him was Alanna, dressed as he was, for riding. Numair was there too, in what looked like a nightshirt. Fire lashed from their hands—purple for the Lioness, black for Numair—to cut the enemy in two.

  Zhaneh spoke in her odd language and began to climb; those that were able followed. A wall of their own fire wrapped around them, coloring them scarlet with an edge of gold light.

  The bearded man threw a fistful of blue. The red shield consumed it, but the man continued to hurl bolts until the monsters were specks in the sky.

  Daine’s knees buckled from exhaustion and shock. Numair came down the rise, looking as tired as when she had first seen him as a man. “I said I’d see you again,” he joked, leaning on the tree.

  She grinned at him. “You timed it perfect.”

  Darkmoon and the other horses, ponies, and hounds sat where they were, trembling with nerves. Many were cut and bleeding, but—miraculously—none were dead.

  The bearded man crouched beside a Stormwing corpse. He must have discovered their smell: he sneezed and put a hand over his nose. Alanna and Onua went to him, Onua leaning on Tahoi for support. A liver chestnut and an iron gray horse nuzzled Sarge, making sure he was in one piece. Daine giggled, and found she was getting the same treatment from Cloud.

  Numair offered Daine his hand. Cloud supported her on her free side, and a stranger mare let Numair prop himself on her. “The trainees usually wait till they’re away from the palace before starting any wars,” Numair told her. “The nobles will complain you got them out of bed.”

  Daine looked up at him, worried. “Will I get in trouble?”

  Sarge had heard. He laughed. “Let ’e
m complain. It’s good for them to be up in time for breakfast.”

  When she was calmer, she thanked the dogs, horses, and ponies who had come to her rescue. Only when the men who worked in the palace stables and kennels arrived to retrieve their charges did she return to the Rider barracks.

  “Should I go help them?” she asked Onua as she cleaned up. “Some of the animals were hurt. They’ll need stitching and bandaging—”

  “Calm down,” the woman said. “There’s a sorcerer attached to each of the stables and kennels, to do any healing. Your animals will be fine.”

  Daine followed her to breakfast, envious. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing, to be able to wave her hands and put an end to a creature’s hurts?

  Evin and Miri besieged her with questions as she joined them. Why was she in the field? Hadn’t she been scared? Why did the animals fight for her and Onua? She answered as well as she could, but when Padrach and Farant came to ask the same things, she felt embarrassed.

  After breakfast, Sarge ordered the trainees to report to the horse meadow for cleanup. Daine helped Kuri to clear a ground-floor storeroom, freeing it to serve as her bedroom. Its best feature was a door to the outside she could leave open. Other than that, it was tiny, just big enough to hold a bed, a storage chest, a chair, and a small table.

  That afternoon she helped the trainees saddle and ride their new mounts. By the time everyone took their days-end bath, she was exhausted. She was content, at supper, just to listen to her new friends talk. Afterward, as the trainees got ready for their night’s lessons, Onua beckoned.

  “What’s up?” Daine asked.

  The K’mir led her to a room across the hall from the mess. “There’s somebody who’d like to meet you.” She opened the door. “I brought her,” she announced, following Daine inside. “Are we late?”

  FIVE

  WILD MAGIC

  Seated at the table was the bearded man Daine had seen that morning. “I just got here,” he said in a deep, gentle voice. “I took the liberty of ordering refreshments from the cooks, by the way.”

  Close up, he was a sight to wring any female heart. His close—cropped hair and beard were blue black, his eyes sapphire blue, his teeth white against the blackness of his beard. Daine gulped. She felt ten feet tall and clumsy. Her face was probably breaking out in pimples as she looked at him.

  He got to his feet and smiled down at her. “You must be Daine. You may not remember me from before—you were busy.”

  Looking up into those eyes, the girl felt her heart melt like butter in the sun. “No, sir, I remember. You threw blue lightning.”

  He held a chair out for her. “Sit down, please.” She obeyed and was glad when he sat again. Having him behind her was wonderful but terrifying. What if she had forgotten to scrub the back of her neck?

  A cook entered with a tray loaded with cakes, fruit, and a pitcher of juice. Placing it on the table, he bowed to the man. “Your Majesty.”

  “Exactly what we need,” the stranger told him. “My thanks.” The cook bowed again and made his escape.

  Daine gaped at her host. “You’re the king!” she cried. Belatedly remembering she ought to bow, or kneel, or something, she jumped to her feet.

  Jonathan—King Jonathan—grinned. “It’s all right. Please sit. Otherwise good manners say I have to get up again, and I’m tired.”

  She sat, trembling. This is a very strange country, she told herself, not for the first time. Back home, you couldn’t pay a noble to speak to a commoner!

  The king selected a cake and bit into it. “Wonderful,” he said with his mouth full. “The Riders eat better than I do.”

  “It just seems as if we do. We don’t have six footmen asking if you’re sure you don’t want a taster,” Onua teased. She poured juice for all of them.

  King Jonathan snorted. “Don’t remind me.” He looked at Daine. “Seers can tell, sometimes, if the immortals will attack a place. You, however, are the first I know of to sense them nearby. Are there seers or fortune-tellers in your family?” He smiled at her, just at her.

  She’d tell him anything for another smile. “Ma was a hedgewitch, Your Honor. She had the Gift for birthing, healing. Protection spells—not as good as Onua’s. She was best with plants. She never could see any future things, though.”

  “Did she have the Gift from her family?” he asked.

  She nodded, fiddling with the lacing of her shirt. “All the girls in her family was healers but me.” She swallowed a throat-lump, remembering how disappointed Ma had been that Daine couldn’t follow in her steps.

  “What of your father?” His voice was kind, but the question hurt. The king saw it in her face and said gently, “I’m sorry, but I must know. If your father was a peddler or a vagabond, perhaps he sired other children with your ability. We can use more people like you.”

  “Why? Sir—Your Majesty, that is?”

  “Winged horses were seen in Saraine this winter.” The grimness in his eyes caught and held her. “Griffins nest in the cliffs of the Copper Isles. There are spidrens throughout the hill country this spring.”

  Winged horses? Griffins? “Where do they come from, do you know?”

  “The Divine Realms—the home of the gods. Four hundred years ago, powerful mages locked the immortals into them. Only the greatest gods have been able to leave—until now.”

  An arm crossed Daine’s vision to pick up a cake. Numair took an empty seat, and the king went on. “Our neighbors—Galla, Scanra, Tusaine—report unicorns, giant birds, even winged people as small as wrens. We are plagued by monsters, ogres, and trolls.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s interesting that a weak mage like Sinthya could send rare creatures like Stormwings after you. Where did he get such power? As far as we know, he had only one secret worth protecting: he was dealing with Carthak.”

  “Carthak’s another country?” Daine asked, blushing for her ignorance.

  “Across the Inland Sea,” Numair said. “They’re desperate. Their crops failed two years in a row—not enough rain, and tornadoes that ripped up the fields. There were food riots in the capital last winter. The emperor needs good farmland, and we’re the closest target.”

  “Carthak has the university, its school for mages, and its library—the same library used by the mages who sealed the Divine Realms.” The king looked at Numair. “I think the Carthaki mages found those spells.”

  Numair was rolling a cake into a ball. “And spells to compel immortals to obey humans. How else could Sinthya get Stormwings to chase me?”

  “We have nothing like those spells,” Jonathan told Daine. “Sinthya’s papers vanished. We’re searching our own libraries, but it might take months. In the meantime, the warnings foretellers give us aren’t enough. If we could send those with your ability to sense immortals to our villages and towns, we could better protect our people. If we can find your father—”

  It had come back to that. She shook her head, humiliated.

  “Daine?” It was Onua, who had given her trust and work that she loved. She owed this woman, at least, an answer.

  She looked down. “I don’t know who he is. It’s in my name. Sarrasri—Sarra’s daughter. Only bastards are named for their mothers.” She spat out the hated word, but its taste stayed on her tongue.

  “Why don’t you know?”

  She didn’t look up to see who had asked. “Ma never told me. She never told anybody. She kept saying ‘someday, someday.’”

  “Do you know anything?” Onua rested a hand on Daine’s shoulder.

  She fought to get herself under control. “It was Beltane. They light fires, and couples jump over the embers when they burn down.” So they’ll have babies in the coming year, she thought, but she wasn’t going to say that.

  “We do the same thing,” the king remarked.

  Daine looked at him, startled. “You never jumped over no embers,” she accused before she knew what she was saying.

  The others laughed. She ducked he
r head to hide her blush.

  “The ruler takes part in all great feasts, to show respect for the gods,” Jonathan told her gravely. His eyes danced. “Thayet and I do it every year.”

  “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to be—disrespectful—”

  He patted her knee. “I didn’t think you were. Go on.”

  “Ma wasn’t sweet on anybody, so she went walking in the wood alone. She met someone. I used to think it was a man that was already married, but when I asked last year, she said no. And I don’t look like anyone from Snowsdale. Most of ’em are blond and blue eyed, being’s we’re so near Scanra and all.”

  The king sat back with a sigh. “Well, it was an idea,” he said to no one in particular.

  “I’ll help if I can,” she said, knowing that she had disappointed them. “I just don’t know what I could do. And the warnings aren’t that, exactly. I know something wrong’s coming, but I knew that much about the rabid bear.”

  “A rabid bear?” the king asked in horror and awe. “Mithros—that’s not something I’d ever want to see!”

  Daine smiled. “I didn’t want to see him, either, sir. I just got to.”

  “Did you get the identical sensation from the bear as you got with the Stormwings or the spidrens?” asked Numair.

  “Oh, no. It was different. Bad, but in a brown kind of way.”

  “In a what?” Onua asked.

  “Well, animals—I think of ’em in colors, sometimes.” She tapped her head. “To me, bears feel brown, only this one had red and black lights. Very sick, he was. I get the monsters as colors too, but they’re gold with black and green lights in them. I never felt any real creature as gold.”

  “I told you she has magic,” the mage told the king triumphantly.

  “No!” she retorted, jumping to her feet. “Didn’t Ma test me and test me? Don’t you think I’d’ve grabbed at magic, if I had it, just to please Ma?”