by Brandon Mull
“You mean they’re Beyonders?”
“That’s my guess.”
“I’ve never seen anything like them in my world.”
“I suspect there is much more to the Beyond than just your world,” the charm woman said. “If I’m right, the torivors come from a much more foreign reality than yours.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know a name for it. But Zokar took great interest in the Beyond. It was a specialty. My best guess is that he somehow lured the torivors to Lyrian from afar and bound them into his service.”
“How many torivors are there?”
The woman shrugged. “No less than twenty. Probably no more than a few hundred. It is difficult to estimate with any certainty. Lurkers are seldom seen abroad anymore, and they tend to show up solo. During the great war between Eldrin and Zokar, torivors occasionally appeared in groups, giving us our only basis for guessing at their numbers.”
Oncoming hoofbeats made the charm woman turn.
“A single horse,” Rachel recognized. “Should be Drake.”
The charm woman nodded. “I still have defenses up that would reveal the approach of an enemy.”
Astride Mandibar, Drake burst into view through a pair of tall shrubs and loped over to Rachel, dismounting smoothly. “The lurker has brought soldiers.”
“How near are they?” the charm woman asked.
“They’re coming from the east and the west, fanned out in wide lines, at least sixty in all; half soldiers, half militia. I watched from the hilltop to the southwest.”
The charm woman frowned. “Lurkers are clever. Once this one lost you, it recognized that you had found a way to conceal yourselves. So it has brought others to converge on the area where you disappeared, to flush you out. My charms are meant to divert casual attention, not intense scrutiny.”
“We have maybe half an hour before they come within view,” Drake said. “If you two go north and I head south, we should avoid discovery.”
“We’re ready to go,” the charm woman said. “This may work to our favor. Just when the lurker is expecting to flush us, you’ll run south with the doll.”
“If it takes the bait, I’ll lead it southwest to the Purga River. After I set the doll adrift, I’ll ride hard to the north. We’ll meet on the highest ridge above Crescent Valley, to the northeast of Trensicourt.”
“That’s the plan,” the charm woman confirmed. “It’s time I uprooted for a change of scenery. I was getting too comfortable here. Don’t forget the doll.” She gestured toward it while mounting a donkey. Rachel climbed onto her mare.
Drake looked at the doll, and froze. He blinked and squinted, glancing from the doll to Rachel and back. “Uncanny resemblance,” he muttered.
“Ha-ha,” Rachel said. “Let’s just hope it confuses the lurker.”
“I’m not jesting,” Drake assured her, crouching over the doll. He held out a tentative hand, passing it through the air above the wooden figure.
“It’s the power of your permission, coupled with my preparations,” the charm woman told Rachel. “The doll is speaking to his mind with more authority than his eyes.”
“He sees me?”
Drake fumbled almost blindly for a moment before laying hands on the doll. He patted it, as he might in the dark, to confirm its size and shape. “Masterful work.”
“The first layer of enchantment directs attention away from the doll,” the charm woman explained. “Under that layer, the decoy registers as Rachel to the mind.”
Drake picked up the doll, shaking his head. “Enough to make me hallucinate,” he agreed. “And that was with the real girl right in front of me.”
“It should suffice,” the charm woman said.
With the doll cradled in one arm, Drake swung up onto Mandibar. “Until we meet again,” he said. The stallion bounded forward at his command.
“Bye, Drake,” Rachel called, sad to see her protector leaving. He had been her sole companion for weeks.
The charm woman shook a rattle and chanted Edomic words. Rachel had never heard the phrases, but innately sensed the meaning. The words spoke to the animals, releasing them from this area and encouraging them to make their own way to the rendezvous point.
“Can you control animals with Edomic?” Rachel asked as they started northward.
“Not control,” the woman replied. “At best, one can influence. You will find that all life generates natural resistance to Edomic tampering. Speaking broadly, the greater the intelligence, or stronger the will, the more potent the resistance. The usual relationships one could form with domestic animals can be hastened and deepened by proper use of Edomic, and communication becomes much clearer. Influencing wild animals can be significantly more challenging, and exercising compulsion is virtually impossible. I build trust with my pets over time, occasionally inviting them to do my will.”
Rachel had to hold back her mare to avoid outpacing the charm woman. As they moved north, the other donkeys and animals dispersed. “So they’ll just roam and eventually join us at our destination?”
“Essentially,” the charm woman said. “They’re all protected with various tokens that should guide them back to me while helping them avoid the notice of predators. I’ve been on the move like this for decades, so I’ve gained some skill at the relevant enchantments.”
“You seem good at what you do.”
“Thank you.”
“Isn’t there an easier way for you to live?”
The charm woman considered the question before answering. “I suppose I could set up an exhaustively protected lair from which I could operate. But I don’t think I’m good enough to keep such a stronghold hidden indefinitely. Besides, I enjoy the outdoors. The exercise keeps me young. I suspect I would stagnate if trapped in one place.”
“Does it get lonely?”
“My charms are good company. I never tire of creating them. Improving my Edomic is a lifelong challenge. The related efforts keep me stimulated. My only other realistic option would be to take up a false identity and quit using Edomic, which I would never consider.”
Rachel nodded. “It’s fun to use it. It makes me feel, I don’t know, more alive.”
The woman gazed up at her from astride the donkey. “Considerable pleasure arises from successfully exerting your will to command natural elements. Something more than the inherent satisfaction of accomplishment. The thrill can become intoxicating. It can lure the unwary into attempting more than they are ready to manage … with disastrous results.”
“I’ll try to be careful,” Rachel said, wishing she had kept the thought to herself.
“I’m not advising you to ignore the pleasure of wielding Edomic,” the charm woman clarified. “You couldn’t if you tried. But keep up your defenses against the tantalizing allure. Chasing the thrill of power is a short path to destruction.”
They proceeded in silence for a time, with the donkey in front, Rachel behind on her much larger mount. The donkey showed no interest in hurrying, never advancing at more than a walk.
After some time, the charm woman dismounted and then planted a small stake in the ground, not much bigger than a golf tee. A few copper rings dangled from the top.
“What will that do?” Rachel asked.
The charm woman remounted the donkey. “The purpose is twofold. The totem will serve as an alarm to let us know if somebody is following our trail. And it should also befuddle and divert any who seek to pursue us.”
“You think of everything,” Rachel said.
“I try.”
“Do you have a name? I feel like I have nothing to call you.”
“I have a name. But I don’t share it. My most formidable enemies hunt me with their minds. It helps that they don’t know where I’m from, or my age, or who my relatives might be. It also helps that they don’t have my name. You can assign me a nickname if you like.”
“How about Elaine?”
“That will serve. You chose swiftly.”
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nbsp; “I’ve always liked it.” Rachel did not add that Elaine had been the name of her favorite stuffed animal, a giraffe with a hat and pearl necklace.
As the day progressed, they rode across low, wild hills and skirted numerous valleys and meadows, never proceeding with any haste. The charm woman planted a couple more stakes. By sundown, they reached a rocky slope above a small lake. Rachel followed the donkey over uneven terrain until they arrived at the wide mouth of a shallow cave.
The charm woman dismounted and removed a few items from the donkey’s packs. Rachel tethered her horse and then collected her rolled blankets. Elaine led her into the broad recess. Rachel noticed symbols painted on the walls, and a few crude figurines on the ground. In a rear corner of the shallow cave, the charm woman led Rachel through a narrow cleft into a second chamber.
“I’ve used this cavity before,” Elaine confided. “It offers plenty of shelter to build a fire now that darkness will hide the smoke.” She motioned toward a few tidy stacks of wood.
“Are those your dolls out in the first room?” Rachel asked.
“I prefer for my hideouts to remain undisturbed.”
“Right.”
Elaine piled up some logs in a depression, then added some twigs. “Would you care to do the honors?”
“Sure. I haven’t lit a campfire before.”
“Concentrate on this stick,” Elaine said, indicating a gnarled twig. “See if you can get the entire length to ignite at once.”
“Drake used tinder,” Rachel hedged.
“Drake didn’t have your aptitude. There are words that could direct the heat to gather along the entire stick. But I would rather you used the same verbiage as usual, and simply willed the heat to the entirety of the twig.”
Rachel flexed her fingers nervously. “What if I fail?”
“This is not overly ambitious. You’ll be fine. Besides, if you fully invest in this task, I don’t expect you to fail. Go ahead.”
Rachel knelt close beside the modest pile of wood, eyes on the gnarled twig, trying to internalize the texture and shape. She focused her will on it, just as she had on the candle wicks, but instead of narrowing her concentration down to a point, she tried to mentally aim at the entire object.
She spoke the Edomic words and pushed with all of her consciousness, exerting her will much as she had when lighting distant candles. The twig suddenly burst into hot flames, making Rachel lean back. She laughed at the sudden combustion and enjoyed a much more satisfying rush than had ever attended the lighting of a candle.
“Well done, child!” the charm woman exclaimed. “You’re really learning to merge the command with your will.”
“I gave it everything I had,” Rachel said.
The twig continued to burn. The fire she had called had not merely licked across the surface—it seemed to have erupted from within. As the twig burned hotly, flames spread to neighboring wood.
“I couldn’t have lit that twig half so impressively,” Elaine confessed. “And I have been at this for many years. How did it feel?”
“Good. It actually felt easier than the first time I lit a candle from a distance.”
“Come with me.”
The charm woman led Rachel out of the cave and over to a little pine. She ran a finger along a slender limb bristling with green needles. “Try to ignite the end of this branch.”
“How much of it?” Rachel asked.
She indicated the last couple of inches. “Just this much.”
“That’s a lot shorter than the twig.”
“It’ll be harder. But see if you can manage it.”
“Okay. It’s funny, I feel a little tired after the twig.”
Elaine nodded. “You pushed hard to light the twig, probably harder than necessary. Over time, you’ll learn how much effort is needed for various tasks, and that will help you conserve your strength. Take a moment to collect yourself.”
“I’m all right.”
“Don’t hold back,” Elaine advised. “This will be tough.”
“Right,” Rachel said softly. She breathed deeply, focusing on the end of the limb, trying to memorize every needle. “Here we go.”
Just like in the cave, she spoke the words to summon heat, then pushed with all the will she could muster. She centered her attention on the last two inches of the limb, directing the heat to permeate it. If anything, it felt like she had marshaled more power than ever for this command, but the end of the limb began to feel indefinably slippery. Her concentration wavered. Clenching her fists, she redoubled her effort. The limb quivered, and tendrils of steam trickled up.
After a prolonged, frustrating moment, her focus completely broke. She simply couldn’t sustain the internal effort. It felt like she had taken a step off an unseen curb. Damp with perspiration, Rachel fell to her knees. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she found herself short of breath. As she closed her eyes, the ground seemed to twirl and tilt. She bowed forward, putting her palms on the dirt.
She felt steadying hands on her shoulders. “Calm yourself, child. Let the sensation pass.”
Rachel felt acutely aware of the smell of the rocks and soil beneath her, the scent of the little pine beside her. She fought down the urge to retch, and the dizziness began to recede. After a moment, she stood.
“That was brutal,” she said, feeling too rattled to hide her resentment. “I fell apart. Why’d you ask me to do that?”
“Do you know what made it so hard?”
“The water inside the branch?”
“Think about what I told you before.”
The realization hit. “The tree is alive.”
“Exactly. All life resists Edomic tampering. The difference between trying to ignite a dead twig and a live limb is extraordinary. I’m not sure if even the greatest wizards could have directly burned a human.”
“You knew I would fail,” Rachel said.
“I suspected you might fail with the twig. When you succeeded, I gave you a much harder challenge.”
“Why would you want me to fail?” Rachel still felt unsteady and short of breath.
“Two reasons. First, I wanted you to feel firsthand the resistance living things have to Edomic. The way life resists tampering is difficult to grasp until you experience it.”
“And second?”
“You needed to learn what failure feels like. You needed to experience your concentration unraveling when engaged in a task beyond your capacity. With practice, you will learn to recognize when you have attempted to accomplish too much. Deliberately abandoning a command early can reduce the negative impact of failure.”
“So if I hadn’t kept fighting to the end, I would have been less jolted?”
“Correct. Anyone who dabbles in Edomic must learn to cope with failed directives. Little by little, you’ll be able to handle more ambitious commands. But never forget that the more ambitious the command, the harsher the impact of failure.”
“I see how that could be good to know.”
“For example,” Elaine continued, “had you tried to set the whole evergreen ablaze, and had you pushed with all your might, you would probably be dead.”
“I’ll be careful,” Rachel promised. Her legs still felt a little rubbery.
“Using Edomic can be very rewarding,” the charm woman said. “But it is no game. You must learn to stay within your limits. You have great potential, Rachel, but those with impressive native skill often burn out quickly. They attempt too much too soon, and never get to discover what they might have become had they cultivated their talent more patiently.”
“I think I’ve got the idea,” Rachel said. “If I’m going to fail, I need to fail doing only a little more than I can handle.”
“That is a sane and proven road to progress. If you can hold to that principle, you could go far. If not, you will probably perish.”
CHAPTER 9
SMUGGLED
Upstairs, in a spotless guest bedroom, Jason could not sleep. Fingers laced behind his
head, he lay atop the covers of a narrow bed, gazing up at the slanted ceiling. Aram was asleep downstairs, and Moira had insisted Jason rest as well, in preparation for a night on horseback.
The night before, Aram had collected Jason’s belongings from the Dockside Inn. He had also scouted the town and found triple the usual guardsmen at every gate, complemented by an unusual amount of patrols scouring the city in search of a nameless fugitive who matched Jason’s description. Aram had expressed that he couldn’t recall comparable interest in a fugitive since Galloran had been abroad.
Jason rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable. Part of his restlessness stemmed from Ferrin’s hand. The dismembered appendage kept fluttering in the backpack. The rustling had persisted off and on for at least an hour. In the past, Ferrin had only drawn such attention when there was something he urgently wanted to share.
Although he felt painfully curious about the message from Ferrin, Jason had been trying to ignore the rustling. After all, the safety of Aram and Moira was in jeopardy, along with his own. There was no guarantee that Ferrin was on his side. The smart course would be to avoid contacting Ferrin until Ithilum was behind him. But as the minutes passed and the fluttering continued, Jason began to question how the displacer could deduce anything useful from letters traced on a palm. If he was careful not to give away information, was there any real harm in exchanging a few words? What if Ferrin had a vital tip?
As the rustling continued doggedly, curiosity finally overcame caution. Jason had to silence the hand, right? With the sun perhaps an hour from setting, Aram might show up before long. The lively hand would be difficult to explain.
Jason rolled out of bed and removed the severed hand from the backpack, slapping it gently to signal he was prepared to receive a message. The hand began signing.
I am in Ithilum. So are you. All routes out of town are under surveillance by agents of Maldor, no doubt summoned by your lurker friend. I will help you escape.
