by Lou Hoffmann
Thank the gods for Han Shieth.
His train of thought ended there, when Bayahr suddenly stopped Sal and said, “Horses are coming!”
Thurlock’s expression went to one of concentration, and after a moment, he said, “I don’t sense danger. You, Luccan?”
Lucky hadn’t thought to try to sense whether there was danger. He didn’t in fact know he might be able to. But since Thurlock asked, he gave it a whirl. He got nothing more than a faint sense of someone moving with purpose and urgency.
“Uh, no,” he said. “But I think someone’s in a hurry to do something.”
“Right,” Thurlock said. “Let’s get off the road into those trees across the field, just in case.”
Once their horses were back off the road, Lucky said, “Thurlock, Hank George taught me to sneak. I mean—well, anyway, long story. The thing is, I can go back closer to the road and see who comes by without getting caught.”
Thurlock scratched at his beard, then nodded. “Okay, but to help you sneak even better, I’m going to put a little cloaking spell on you.” After waving his hand at Lucky and saying a single word Lucky had never heard before, he said, “All set. Go.”
Lucky was stationed just off the road behind a screen of uninviting shadeberry bushes intermingled with tall, summer-dry grasses when a half dozen young people stopped right in front of him on the road. At the head of the troop, Mayli sat atop a small roan with powerful shoulders and hind quarters. Just behind her and to her right, Craytonh towered over her on a very tall dapple gray with shaggy fetlocks. He was wearing a full suit of leaf-mail armor.
“Why did you stop?” Craytonh asked.
“Because they were here. And now they’re not.”
“So… wouldn’t that mean we should keep going? You know, follow them?”
“Don’t be stupid, Craytonh. We’ve been following them. Their passage has been evident all the way from the city, but this is where it ends. Two things, though. First, I think they might have gone that way”—she pointed with a long knife.
Or is that a short sword?
“—into those trees back there. But also, there is magic, active magic, right here. Close, very close. So close I can’t really tell where it’s coming from. Sisters?” she called out, and looked back toward the four riders behind them—three girls whose pale complexion, watery blue eyes, and white-blonde hair all resembled Mayli’s own looks, and one boy of maybe twelve who looked a lot like Craytonh. “Can you feel it too?” she asked.
The three girls nodded in unison, but said nothing.
“Tell me again why I had to follow you out here, Craytonh,” the boy said.
“Because I said so, Haldon. I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a parent now, so if I leave the city, so do you.”
“Yeah, fine. I get that, but why did you leave the city?”
Craytonh rode back and lined his horse up next to Haldon’s and put an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s gonna be all right! To be honest, when we first started out this morning, I had this weird thing going on. I thought that kid Luccan, the one we’re following, was the greatest thing since peach tart. I’m not sure, but that might have been some kind of spell. I don’t feel that way anymore, but I got to thinking. Remember how Mom and Dad used to read us those stories about Shahna, and Thurlock, and all those old heroes?”
“Yeah. That book—The Heroes of the Twelve-Rayed Sun. I remember.”
“Well, guess who this boy Luccan was in the city with—that very same Thurlock. And Luccan had a pin on his lapel—the same Twelve-Rayed Sun emblem that was embossed on that book cover.”
“And,” Haldon spoke up, looking like he’d just had an “aha” moment, “Dad used to always say, ‘Come trouble, be sure you stand on the side of the Sun.’”
“Exactly,” Craytonh said. “And, Hal, I’m afraid there’s trouble. I can feel it. I want to be sure we’re on the right side.”
“And,” Mayli called out, “imagine what I might be able to learn from Thurlock Ol’Karrigh. An opportunity that won’t come again. That Luccan, he’s okay I guess. Kind of… different. I’m not sure why I felt so taken with him when I first woke up. And earlier, when that b—when Lady Relian came in with her evil wand, for some reason I just felt like I needed to protect him. Weird. I think he’s somebody important. What do you think, sisters?”
“He is the Twelve-Rayed Sun,” the three nearly identical girls intoned together.
Mayli laughed, and Craytonh looked shocked.
“Whatever that means,” Mayli said. “Anyway, let’s check out those trees back there.”
Lucky decided a few things really fast. First, he liked Craytonh and Hal, he wasn’t sure about Mayli, and he thought her sisters were spooky. Second, they were all magical and all on his side, and as he’d just been thinking—as Thurlock had been saying—they needed friends. Third, he should tell Thurlock they were coming before they got there. He’d always been fast, and now he put on the speed—never mind about hiding, he’d just trust in the cloaking spell, though it likely didn’t matter.
“Thurlock,” he said as he stepped into the grove. “They’re coming, Mayli and Craytonh and their siblings, and they think I’m the sun.”
“Oh. My,” Thurlock said. “Well, no reason to hold on to this spell any longer, is there?”
He waved and Lucky felt the tingle of magic falling away.
“We’ll just put on some tea, then, shall we?”
NOW NINE strong, they set out on the road to the Sisterhold once again. They made surprisingly good time, covering a lot of ground even though they all matched their pace to the slowest member of their party—Bayahr on Salvatohr.
“It’s Bayahr that makes us fast,” Craytonh told Lucky. “He has this magic where he sort of wrinkles the land, right down to the world’s core, so even though we take slow steps, each one moves us farther than it seems.”
When Craytonh attended university, Bayahr had been a major focus of his study. He’d written a thesis covering all that was known about the so-called “Wizard of Stone,” and speculating about Bayahr’s true origins and age. Little was known about him, Craytonh said, because he rarely moved among the magical community, instead exploring and studying such things as the roots of mountains, the long, slow lives of monolithic stones, and the character of beach sands. When it came to true magical power, however, Craytonh had argued that Bayahr was second to none—not even Thurlock, for their respective skills could not readily be compared.
When the six young riders had come into the little grove where Thurlock, Bayahr, and Luccan awaited them, Mayli had instantly gone to Thurlock and, bowing low, asked to be allowed to serve at his side. The three sisters had ridden their horses to where Lucky stood off to the side, trying to stay out of the middle of things. They’d dismounted and walked up to him, each with a look of extreme curiosity as if studying a strange bug, and then touched his face.
“Yes,” said one of the sisters.
“I can see it,” said another.
“He is the sun,” said the third.
Talk about uncomfortable. Lucky had quickly excused himself, and when they followed him, said rather rudely he needed to take care of private matters and they needed to leave him alone. It was a lie, so it made him sick, but for once he’d felt it was totally worth it.
But Craytonh had walked quietly up to Bayahr and said, “I’m so happy to meet you, sir.”
Lucky didn’t know what the two had talked about after that, but it was clear by the time they left the grove that they’d established some kind of rapport. So now, when Craytonh explained how Bayahr’s magic was moving them along, he had every reason to take him at his word.
However Bayahr was doing it, they still had to spend one more night camped on the wayside, because Salvatohr decided it would be so. With a loud, warbling, whinny-like hee-haw, he planted his feet, and then once everyone had stopped, he simply turned off the road. He led them unerringly to an abandoned, stone-line
d dugout hidden by willows that clustered around a spring. The night wasn’t wasted time, though. Camp chores went smoother and quicker with the extra hands, Bayahr produced camp stones and kindled them to a blaze with a word, and they dined on roasted sausages and apples and small, crusty loaves of toasted brown bread. Thurlock produced popcorn—a food not unknown in Ethra—and Lucky enjoyed it, staying quiet as he listened to the newcomers talk. He wasn’t sure why, but by the time the evening ended he felt better about the future.
The next day’s travels started early, with breakfast done and everything packed up by the time the sun fully topped the horizon. To Lucky’s surprise, their pace remained unhurried, with none of the sense he’d had the previous day of covering more distance than actual steps would suggest.
“Isn’t Bayahr doing the wrinkling thing today?” he asked Thurlock.
“Who told you about that?” Thurlock responded, once again answering a question with a question.
Slightly peeved at how rare actual answers came from Thurlock, Lucky said, “Cray. Why, was it a secret?”
“If it was, would Craytonh have known?”
“Thurlock!”
“Sorry, Luccan,” Thurlock said, and winked at him. “To answer your first question, no, he isn’t.”
“Because?”
“Because he’s listening today, and I’m thinking. Best to leave ample time for those things.”
Not surprised by such a strange answer—but a little surprised that he wasn’t surprised—Lucky said, “Sir, one more question—what is he listening to?”
“Ethra, of course.”
The rest of the journey was quiet, with only a few quick stops at the side of the road for rest and refreshment. As Bayahr was “listening,” Craytonh was doing it too. The three identical sisters said little but did sing a few times, sad ballads with perfect and lovely three-part harmony on the refrains. Mayli mostly watched Craytonh, and Lucky figured she might have a crush that Cray was oblivious to. To take her mind off it and occupy his own mind, he suggested a game of I Spy, and once he explained, she agreed. The time passed agreeably for a while, and then everyone fell into silence—also agreeable, from Lucky’s perspective.
By the time the sun was low in the sky and Lucky’s stomach was rumbling for dinner, they were winding their way down the hills, and the Sisterhold, with her village, orchard, farms, and the sprawling military installment lay spread out before them like an illustrated map.
Thurlock brought Sherah alongside Zefrehl and said, “Your uncle has been busy, I see.”
The fields outside the military headquarters buildings were crowded with tents apparently handling overflow from the permanent barracks, which hadn’t even been full when Lucky and Thurlock started out for Nedhra City.
“That’s good, don’t you think? We’re going to need an army.”
“By Behl’s word,” Thurlock said, shaking his head, but not in disagreement. “Unfortunately, that is a very true statement, young man. Han, as ever, will have my gratitude. And you too, Luccan. I don’t know if you understand what you’ve done. I mean besides what you accomplished back there in Nedhra City. These young people who have joined us are a very talented bunch, and we need them. If you hadn’t touched them with the Charismata, we would have come away from Nedhra City without a single new ally for the coming war.”
“War?”
“Yes. Exactly that.”
Lucky didn’t like thinking of it in those terms, but honesty compelled him to admit to himself what he already knew. War was exactly what was coming. And it would be his war as much as anyone else’s—no way could he hope to stand on the sidelines.
I’m too young for this, he thought.
“No, you’re not” came Han’s answer. He wasn’t near, but he was close enough to have heard the thoughts Lucky hadn’t bothered to block.
“Uncle Han! It’s good to hear your voice… um, in my head. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. I’m not sure why the communication wasn’t working well, but it worried me. Right now, I’m in the middle of stuff, so I can’t visit long, but hear this. You are much younger than I’d wish you to be, having to face the enemy in the battles ahead. But you are certainly old enough to know what you need to do, and to get it done. I wish I could protect you, instead of include you, but everything that’s happened for many years has led to your involvement in this. As that is the case, the Sunlands could not hope for a better leader. I could not hope for a better comrade in arms. So welcome home, Luccan. Rest easy while you can.”
Those words from Han terrified Lucky, but he didn’t respond. What could he say? And anyway, Han had broken the connection, obviously applying his mind elsewhere. Wars, battles, enemies—he didn’t want to think about those things until he had to, so instead he turned to Thurlock and turned the conversation in a new direction.
“I don’t get it, Thurlock. They didn’t like me—Mayli and Cray. They made that clear. The Charismata should have backfired, not brought them miles down the road.”
“Why do you think they didn’t like you?”
“It was obvious, the way they spoke to me.”
“Hm. Well… they were already unconscious when you set the Charismata loose?”
“Yes.”
“Then I must conclude that the way they spoke to you didn’t reflect how they truly felt. People do that sometimes, I’ve noticed. Usually it means they’re afraid they’re not going to measure up.”
“So… what? They really liked me and that’s why they treated me like I wasn’t good enough?”
“Yes. And possibly no. I mean they may have convinced themselves they didn’t think much of you, but on some level, they recognized your worth. If they truly didn’t like you, the Charismata would not, I think, have had any affect when they were not aware. And certainly, by the time they woke up it would have worn off. As it is, it did wear off, but not until it provided an impetus for them to follow you.”
“I don’t know,” Lucky said. “It felt pretty real when they were doing their damn…. Er, excuse me. I mean when they were doing their best to try to make me feel stupid.”
“Yes, well, they may have been doing their damnedest to try to convince themselves. You will remember, though, they stood in Relian’s way when she tried to harm you. Regardless, they’re here now as allies, and I believe you are to be thanked for that. So thank you. Accept that and say I’m welcome, and don’t argue with me any more today, please.”
Lucky had to laugh at that. “You’re welcome, Thurlock. Always and forever.”
PART FOUR: Lead from the Heart, Fight on the Wing
Chapter Twenty-Three: To Kill an Octopus
HAN HAD let the manor know that Thurlock, Lucky, and friends were coming, so by the time they got there, a small crowd had gathered—including Han, L’Aria, Zhevi, and most notably Maizie, whose tail almost wagged itself off as she smiled and gave Lucky a week’s worth of sloppy dog kisses. Cook and Shehrice had arranged a welcome-home dinner that included just about everything Lucky loved that could be had in Ethra, including roasted meats, gravy, homemade bread, strawberries, and even potato chips. Not much talking happened while they ate, as it had been a long time since breakfast with not much sustenance between, and everybody was too busy putting food in their mouths and chewing it to bother with words beyond “pass the (whatever)” and “thank you.”
Shehrice found rooms for Mayli and the sisters, while Craytonh and Haldon took Bayahr up on his offer to stay with him in a small dugout-style roundhouse that had been there waiting for him since the last time he’d been at the Hold a few hundred years ago.
Lucky went with Thurlock back to his house, Maizie happily trotting along beside him. On the way he asked the wizard the obvious question. “Won’t it be kind of a mess in that house of Bayahr’s if nobody’s stayed there for centuries?”
“It’s all been taken care of. One thing ordinary magic is very good for is a quick clean-up job. Now, listen, Luccan. Han sent m
e a message that there have been some important developments he needs to talk with me about tonight. I know you’re tired, and I don’t know if it’s essential for you to know about these things on Han’s mind, but I’m giving you the choice to meet with us if you wish. If not, you can go ahead to your bed. I know I’m anxious for mine. I love Sherah, but her back is not the most comfortable place for my old bones, and neither is a bedroll on the damp ground.”
Lucky did want to go to bed—wanted to don Thurlock’s pajamas and crawl under the quilt and rest his head on the pillow and watch the summer shadows fade to dreams. But this other part of him, this future leader who felt responsible for the whole darn country, insisted he stay up and get the news from Han. He told Thurlock as much.
“I thought you might say that,” Thurlock said and sighed. “Oh, to be young again. Then again perhaps you’re growing up too fast.”
As it turned out, the meeting room upstairs in Thurlock’s house was a little more crowded than expected. With Han came Tiro L’Rieve, L’Aria, Lem, Rose, and Zhevi. Maizie and a large chew bone occupied an entire corner, and Bayahr came in late, more or less bumbling and flushed with sweat from having rushed over through the still-warm summer night.
Thurlock’s joy in greeting Tiro and L’Aria revealed how very worried he’d been about them. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you both well. I heard how sick you were. I don’t understand why you were affected as you were, and it had me truly worried—for the two of you, and for all of Ethra. We cannot afford to lose either of you, my dear friends.”
Lucky was happy to see them too, and he felt the need to apologize for making them sick, which felt strange because he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, so that led to a moment of awkwardness. Also awkward, greeting Zhevi, because the last time they’d seen each other had been shortly after they’d come to blows. He apologized for that too, even though he’d already done it once or twice before.
