“I see,” Liesel said. And there it was. That weird little difference that made different lands…strange. She gave a polite smile.
Morgon introduced himself and Yarik urged them both to sit. He had formed all the furniture from living trees, only he’d killed them in the process. He’d learned the technique from the druids, but he felt that living trees were much less comfortable.
“This is a drink called ‘rum,’” Yarik said. He poured the cloudy liquor into three earthenware mugs. The bottle had been warmed by the fire. “I’ve mixed it with spices and added beet sugar from your very own Protectorate.”
That made Hagan’s eyebrows rise and Liesel caught it. She didn’t think we were that familiar with the Protectorates, Liesel thought.
Neither of them reached for a drink. They were cautious.
Liesel smiled, lifted her mug, and took a hearty gulp.
The two Movers couldn't hide their surprise at the pleasing taste. The broken ice began to melt.
They drained their mugs, started on another, and told their sad stories.
“You see,” Yarik said, closing in on his deal, “we share the same struggle. While it is too late for us, it may not be too late for you.” Liesel sat quietly as the master set his trap. “We can help each other. Maybe, just maybe, if you find our weapons useful my daughter and I might find a place in a restored protectorate.”
Liesel gave several grave nods.
Unless she was a good actor, Hagan seemed sold.
Morgon was on the fence. “How do these—what is that, some kind of staff? How do they work?”
Now it was Liesel's turn to shine.
“The best way to tell you,” she said, “is to show you.”
She waved her hand and the living doorway parted again. She led the two Movers out into the snowy mountainside and pointed at a tall pine about three hundred feet away. “Do you see that branch hanging over the cliff there?”
“Yes,” Morgon answered.
The man had barely finished the word “yes” before Liesel brought the rifle to her shoulder in a single smooth motion, aimed, then squeezed the trigger.
The rifle made a sound like a faint whistle, then there was a loud crack like muted thunder. The pine branch exploded close to the trunk, and the rest of the bough shook violently before tumbling down the mountainside.
“What do you call this?” Hagan asked.
“This is a rifle,” Liesel answered. “A magitech rifle.”
“How many can you make for us?” Morgon asked.
Liesel reined in her smile, and knew her father was doing the same. These customers were hooked like trout in spawning season.
“Let’s go back in and talk this over. I want to make sure the magitech solution is right for you.” Liesel led them both back into their miniature living mansion.
Liesel nearly laughed at that last line. The next several hours would be devoted to milking everything they could out of these two.
Tarkon, Moxy, and Vinnie on the Road to the Caves
Vinnie rode with Moxy and Tarkon on the back trails through the Eastern District. They’d left the fortress a few hours after Astrid, and had been traveling for several hours.
Far from the toll road the woods were thick, with tenacious pines clinging to the rising rocky hills.
“What are you smiling at, big man?” Moxy asked as she rode up next to him.
Her tiny frame looked funny on such a large animal. Despite the cold, Moxy wore nothing but white leather armor with white sleeves and legs woven from spider silk and enhanced by Tarkon, the human Forge. The sheer silk would stop all but the sharpest knife blades.
“I was just thinking of Astrid,” Vinnie replied. The looks he got from the other two made him stammer. “I mean, not like that! She’s a friend. I mean, I don’t… I’m a friend!”
“Relax,” Tarkon said after letting him twist on the hook of his own embarrassment for a few moments. “I know what you mean. She’s something special.”
Vinnie’s massive belly shook as he chuckled. “You two tease me with a simple look and I fall for it. All of you are under my skin.”
“Well,” Moxy said. “You have a lot of skin to get under.”
“This is very true,” Vinnie replied with another gut-shaking laugh. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a large chunk of smoked ham.
“She’ll be OK,” Tarkon said. He wore a soft look on his weathered, brown face that was far different than his normal dour drape.
“I’ve seen her fight twenty men,” Vinnie said, “jump fifty feet, take crossbow bolts through the chest, get hanged and take a greenstick collarbone fracture with nary a whimper. But now I’m watching her crack under the stress of a desk job.”
“She’s not cracking,” Moxy asserted. Her tinkling musical laugh sent chills up Vinnie’s spine. “She’s just not meant for a desk job.”
“Neither am I,” Vinnie said.
“You’re more built for a magician’s workshop job,” Tarkon said.
Vinnie looked up at the icy branches wistfully. “I wish I was back at Argan working with Jordane the Scribe again.”
Tarkon chuckled. “We’ll be at the caves soon. They have workshops there. You built some of them. If we’re lucky, they’ll let us use them again.”
“Are we there yet?” Moxy asked.
Tarkon pretended to be annoyed. “You keep asking that. You should know that the caves are half a day’s ride to the northeast.”
“Yeah,” Moxy replied. “But are we there yet?”
Tarkon blushed.
“If you two need to go off into the woods…“ Vinnie offered.
“We can wait,” Tarkon replied. “We’ll just make camp a bit away from you.”
“I brought my silksteel cable,” Moxy said. “We can string up a hammock way up in the trees.”
“No way,” Tarkon said. “My homeland has grass that stretches in all directions like a gently rolling sea. I’m still getting used to mountains and trees.”
“She might convince you,” Vinnie replied with a wink.
Suddenly Moxy faded from view, and it took Vinnie a few seconds to focus on her shimmering form. Her white garments coupled with her invisibility magic made her nearly impossible to see.
Tarkon and Vinnie stopped their mounts. Moxy shot up twenty feet from her horse. She disappeared into the high pine branches like a deadly squirrel.
Tarkon drew a pistol from his belt and swept the woods with the muzzle. His eyes had turned from jet-black to glowing orange, like the fire in a forge.
Vinnie hopped down nimbly from his trusty old draft horse—the only beast that had the wherewithal to carry him. He wanted to be closer to the earth to work his magic.
A raven’s call brought Tarkon off his horse. They tore into the woods to find Moxy clinging to a tree with her finger claws fully extended. She was fully visible and pointing down at the ground.
“You’re walking on his tracks,” she said, slightly annoyed. Vinnie didn’t see them, but Tarkon did.
“Stealthy,” the Forge Monk said. “Small prints. Well hidden.”
“One of my kind,” Moxy declared.
“Another Pixie?” Vinnie asked, astonished. He’d only met one human of the type commonly referred to as “Pixie.” Moxy was human, but with something more in the mix.
As she told it, her people were descended from those who escaped to the wilderness after the last fall of the New Ancients. Once there, the magic had changed them. They didn’t practice magic. They somehow embodied it.
“Most definitely,” she said. “And he doesn’t want to be found, even though we are related.”
“What?” Tarkon asked. “How do you know all that?”
Moxy let go of the trunk and dropped thirty feet to land in a crouch. She sniffed at the prints. “My people know these things. Our senses are much more refined than yours. No offense.”
“None taken,” Tarkon and Vinnie said at the same time, then laughed.
“Are you OK?” Tarkon asked, sensing some reticence.
“I’m not sure,” Moxy said. “I…I didn’t exactly leave my people under the best terms.”
“Does this relative mean you harm?” Tarkon asked loudly enough to be heard.
Moxy laughed. “No, silly. If he did, you’d be dead of a poisoned dart right now. He was very close. I only caught his scent when the wind shifted. He doesn’t smell angry.”
Vinnie nodded his head. “Your people are very shy.” He thought for a moment. “What does angry smell like?”
Tarkon snorted laughter, then replied, “Probably what it smells like when you eat too much cabbage.”
Moxy sighed and palmed her forehead. “Boys!” She groaned. “But to answer your question, most of us are shy only around your kind. Let’s get back to the horses.”
At that statement, they all stared wide-eyed.
“Horses!” Tarkon exclaimed.
Moxy was off in a flash. They were relieved to find the horses exactly where they left them, only huddled together for warmth.
“Well,” Moxy said, “That was my mistake, and the horses are OK. He definitely doesn’t mean us any harm.”
“Let’s just let him do what he needs to do,” Vinnie said. “We still have a long ride ahead of us.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Strange Day Indeed
Astrid spent most of the day in Argan giving lessons on the Well and how to use it for life in general as well as combat. She observed morning drills, took reports from new troop leaders and made contact with as many people as she could.
By the afternoon she had trouble remembering all the names. She promised herself to never forget their faces. Everyone there now felt they had a purpose that renewed them.
Now if I can only spread that feeling to the first lieutenants, Astrid thought. It would be a tall order, she knew.
When it was time to leave, Charlie showed up again. He stood there with his bare hairy feet and grinned while he petted her horse and fed her a carrot.
“Goodbye, Charlie,” Astrid said as she climbed into the saddle.
Charlie scratched his chin and smiled harder.
When Astrid began to ride through town, Charlie followed. When she reached the open road, it was apparent Charlie meant to leave with her.
“You want to come with me, Charlie?” The giant nodded his head enthusiastically. “People here will miss you.” Charlie looked sad for a moment. He placed his hand over his heart, then looked over his shoulder.
Astrid nearly fell off her horse from the flood of emotion that rushed into her. This time she knew it came from Charlie, but there were no images.
“Stop!” Astrid shouted. “I understand.” Her heart beat wildly in her chest. “I don’t know how you’re doing that, but I can’t take it.”
“Oooh,” Charlie drew the sound out long and low. He patted her leg, then turned back to wave goodbye to the entire village, which did not know he was leaving.
“Well,” Astrid began, still reeling from the mind link. “I guess we can send a note later. I didn’t understand much of what you tried to tell me, but I know you have to come with me.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, only sparing a few words of greeting for the road crew Astrid had passed the day before.
The guards at the gate saw Charlie coming well before Astrid. The presence of a ten-foot-tall person sent them into a high level of alert. Astrid had to shout ahead to identify herself.
She explained Charlie as well as she could, then passed through the checkpoint and into the Fortress wards proper. All activity paused when Charlie passed. Some people smiled and waved, and Charlie waved back. Others retreated to their shops or houses in fear.
But when it came time to turn up the road that led up to the fortress. Charlie froze in his tracks. He lifted his head as if following some scent as he turned slowly in a circle, then walked off down a side street.
“Hey,” Astrid called. “Where are you going?”
Charlie didn’t answer, not even with one of his non-words. He set a determined pace and Astrid had to hurry to catch up to him. He headed into the neighborhood at the base of the mountain known for its many bars and gambling houses. It was not a pleasant place.
The streets were narrow here, and the one and two-story houses had no space between them. The buildings of rough timber leaned on one another like drunken friends pausing at a street corner.
Charlie stopped at an intersection and gasped. He did sniff the air this time, then hurried off to the left. Astrid left her horse tied to a hitching post outside a tavern.
The streets were just wide enough for two people to pass each other without touching shoulders. Two normal people, that is. As Charlie strode briskly down the street, people pressed their backs against the wall to let him pass.
“Sorry,” Astrid said to a woman who had dropped her jug of ale in fright.
“What the hell is that thing?” the woman asked in a panicked voice.
Astrid called without looking back, “His name is Charlie.”
She had never seen Charlie do anything remotely violent, so when he pushed a man to the ground and pressed another against an alley wall she was shocked.
He made mewling sounds while the man he had knocked down took off toward Astrid like she wasn’t even there. He just wanted to get away.
“Hey…” Astrid called, confused.
“Let me go!” the captured man bellowed. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
When Astrid saw the crumpled bloody form Charlie stood over, she thought otherwise.
“What do you call this, then?” Astrid demanded.
“Hell, everyone beats on Darnell. He brings it on himself.”
Astrid pulled the man from Charlie’s grasp and threw him down. When he tried to run away, she planted a solid kick to his behind. “Get out of here! Don’t let me catch you again!”
She would have held him there, but the wounded man on the ground needed her attention more.
His face was a purple swollen mess and his breathing was ragged, so Astrid gently turned him on his side and stretched out his legs. Blood and spit poured from his mouth. Tears rolled off Charlie’s cheeks and dropped on the man, who reeked of alcohol.
“Oh, this is bad,” Astrid said worriedly. “He’s almost done. Is this why you came?”
Charlie nodded and placed one massive hand on the man’s shoulder. Darnell gasped and choked, then gave a single, violent spasm.
Astrid jumped back despite herself. Darnell’s skin glowed blue for a moment, then crackled with static electricity.
“Huh!” Darnell exclaimed, then rolled over onto his back. When he shakily sat up his face was far less swollen, and he opened his eyes. Gaping up at Charlie, he gave a toothless smile despite his obvious pain. “Ow, my head. You got a drink?” Darnell slurred.
Charlie made a sound between a chuckle and a reproach. His hand covered Darnell’s head like a hood.
“Oh!” Darnell exclaimed. “What are you—” He slumped over, fast asleep. Charlie scooped him up off the grimy alley floor like a small child.
“What are you up to, Charlie?” Astrid asked.
Of course, Charlie said nothing—or at least nothing that Astrid understood. She felt something from him, but he had turned inward again.
They made their way back to Astrid’s horse, then continued to Lungu Fortress. All the guards at the gate and everyone they passed stared slack-jawed at the giant carrying a filthy and bloody man.
“Charlie, where are you going?” Astrid called as she dismounted and handed the reins to a stable girl.
Charlie walked like he knew the place. He strode into the wide expanse of the inner courtyard and through an open gate in the inner wall.
Astrid stopped dead in her tracks. The inner wall surrounded the assembly space where Lungu once held rallies and demonstrations. It was also the place that housed the gallows.
“What the hell,” Astrid breathed as chills ran down her
spine. She ran after Charlie, who was already halfway to the gallows.
Darnell was awake now and forming groggy nonsense words. Charlie set him down and gently turned him toward the gallows.
Suddenly Darnell realized where he was and fear sobered him immediately. “Marwood,” he gasped. “His gallows! Why am I here? What are you—”
Charlie lifted his head and bellowed at the sky. The call rooted Astrid to the spot, but it sounded more triumphant than angry. Taking half a dozen strides, Charlie threw himself at the stone foundation of the gallows platform.
His shoulder plowed into the stone wall, pushing it in nearly a foot. Stones at the top popped out and fell. Charlie batted them away as he turned around and walked back a few paces.
His second charge defeated the front wall completely and a cloud of dust obscured the hole he had made.
“Charlie! Get out of there!” Astrid called. The entire platform creaked and trembled.
When Charlie burst through the other side of the shattered wall, the entire structure collapsed into a pile of wood and stone.
The sounds of calamity brought people rushing into the assembly area from all directions and soon Astrid was surrounded. Everyone had the same reaction: when they saw Charlie standing before the rubble, they froze and stared.
Charlie stared back. He scanned their faces, then ran a four-fingered hand through his wiry hair to clear it of dust.
“Astrid?” a voice asked at her left shoulder. She turned to see Benny, the jail warden. “I see you’ve found Darnell.”
“Who?” Astrid shook her head.
“Darnell. You asked me to find out if the hangman had any friends. I asked around and got one name, and that is the man right there.”
Astrid stood shaking her head. “Stranger and stranger,” she declared. “I didn’t find him. Charlie did.”
“I see,” Benny replied. His words didn’t match his expression.
“That makes one of us.” Astrid smiled. “Because I’m looking, but I have no clue what I’m seeing.”
Darnell walked past Charlie and moved close to the rubble. He stood for a moment as hushed voices began to murmur questions.
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