by James Erich
“You saw for yourself. It’s a plant… mostly. But intelligent and predatory. The ten’nak have a small amount of magical ability. A little bit of thought sensing; a bit of illusion. Just enough to lure you into the swamps and drown you.”
Koreh looked irritated. “What’s the point in that?”
“Does there have to be a point?” Geilin asked, smiling and picking up the dead branch he’d been using as a walking staff from where it lay on the ground nearby.
“Yes,” Koreh replied, “there does. Creatures don’t kill just because they can. They kill to eat or protect themselves. Drowning Sael would have been pointless.”
The vehemence with which Koreh spoke surprised Sael. He wondered if Geilin would reprimand him, but the old man simply nodded.
“You’re right, of course,” he said. “The ten’nak feed on the life-spirits of the animals—and men—that drown in these waters. And our friend Sael is not only full of life, but magical power as well.”
Geilin chuckled and winked at his apprentice. “They’d no doubt find you quite tasty.”
Sael didn’t find that particularly funny. And when he looked at Koreh, the young man immediately looked away, his face pale.
STUPID tekh! Koreh thought, furiously washing his clothing out in the small stream near their campsite. Wandering off on his own when just about every living thing is determined to kill him!
Full of magical power, my ass! Head full of swamp gas, more like.
Geilin and Sael had performed whatever rituals they needed to do at Nemom and were now attempting to warm themselves by the fire Koreh had built and Sael had ignited. The old wizard was muddy down the front of his robe, but it was slowly drying. Sael, on the other hand, was completely drenched through. Mud and swamp water were still dripping off him and he was shivering uncontrollably, the fire not at all adequate to dry him.
But would the little prude take his clothes off so he could wash them and dry them? Of course not.
Gods! He’s driving me insane!
His clothing as clean as he could get it, Koreh draped it over one arm and walked back to the fire. Earlier he’d thrown together a makeshift drying rack built of a long deadfall branch. One end was wedged in the crotch of a tree and three branches, bound together with his belt to make a tripod, held the other up. He draped his tunic, breeches, and cloak over it.
When he returned to the fire to warm himself, he caught Sael eyeing his naked body—again. It was clear Sael wanted him. Which was fine. In fact, it was great.
But right now Koreh wasn’t in the mood to play Sael’s shy little games.
“Go on!” Koreh snapped at him, pointing to the stream. “You’re going to freeze to death if you stay in those wet things all night. Go wash them out and hang them to dry. If you’re that shy about me looking at your nud, I’ll stand with my back to you until your clothes are ready.”
Sael looked at him, eyes wide, but apparently afraid to say anything that might exacerbate Koreh’s temper. He looked to Geilin for help, but the old man merely shrugged.
“Fine,” Sael murmured and then wandered off.
Geilin gave Koreh a look he couldn’t interpret, but said nothing.
It was starting to get dark down by the stream, and Koreh fretted about Sael being alone, away from the fire. He seemed to have a knack for getting himself into mortal danger. But Koreh had promised not to watch him if he undressed, and he wouldn’t break a promise. As much as he wanted to.
He occupied himself by slapping against his cloak, trying to get the water out of it.
“I think it’s dead,” Geilin observed.
Koreh stopped. He hadn’t realized, until Geilin spoke, just how hard he’d been hitting the cloak.
“He’s all right,” Geilin said. “You can relax—at least for a short time.”
Koreh couldn’t look at him. “Twice! Twice in one day!”
“But he’s all right now. That’s what matters.”
The old man sat down on a fallen log Koreh and Sael had dragged near the fire and made preparations for tea, though he didn’t yet have any water. That would have to wait until Sael returned.
Koreh came over and sat down beside him, the cold bark rough against his bare buttocks.
“He should be more careful,” he grumbled.
“Indeed. It was rather careless of him to get attacked by a ghusat,” Geilin said. He wasn’t quite hiding the smile.
“I guess he couldn’t help that,” Koreh admitted reluctantly. “But what was he doing wandering off like that in the swamp?”
The old man sighed.
“Koreh… Sael’s father is committing treason. I happen to believe he’s in the right, but that’s neither here nor there. The emperor is going to retaliate. And when he does, something like a ten’nak is going to appear harmless by comparison.”
He put a hand on Koreh’s shoulder. “I’m glad you feel protective of Sael. But you can’t fall apart every time he has a brush with danger. There’s going to be a lot of that in his future. In all our futures, I fear.”
Koreh stared into the fire, mulling this over. When he spoke again, some of the anger had gone out of his voice. “He’s so… fragile.”
“Not so much as you might think.”
“He can’t even do magic!”
Geilin laughed. “Of course he can do magic. He’s been my apprentice for over a decade.”
“That’s what I mean,” Koreh said. “Ten years and he can’t even throw a firebolt.”
“He can. But it takes a lot of focus, and he is still easily distracted.”
Koreh didn’t want to ask, but something compelled him. “Is he… a little slow?”
Geilin shook his head. “No, not at all. It’s a very difficult spell to master.”
They heard a twig snap and looked up quickly. There was Sael, standing on the other side of the campfire.
He wasn’t naked. His tunic, breeches, and cloak were draped over one arm, but he was still dressed in his undertunic. It was washed, but Koreh was nonetheless annoyed the boy would prefer to wander around in cold, wet linen rather than let Koreh see him naked.
That was the least of his problems, however.
Koreh knew instantly, from the grim look on Sael’s face, that he had overheard Koreh asking Geilin if he was “slow.”
Chapter 18
“I SAID I was sorry,” Koreh repeated, exasperated.
“And I said I don’t care.”
Sael stood facing the fire with his undertunic held out to catch the heat. It wasn’t very modest, but he didn’t think Koreh could see anything from where he was standing. Geilin had grown tired of the argument and lay down to sleep after drinking his tea. The old man lay wrapped up in his cloak, facing away from the fire.
“I don’t really think you’re slow.”
“Now that Master Geilin’s told you I’m not.”
Koreh groaned in frustration. “Look. I don’t know how much training it takes to become a vönan—”
“A lot!”
“All right,” Koreh continued, “fine. But it just seemed to me that, after ten years of training, you’d be a little further along.”
Sael glared at him. Was this Koreh’s idea of an apology?
“As Master Geilin already told you,” he responded coolly, “I’m doing as well in my studies as any other tenth-year student. Better than most. I just can’t cast when I’m rushed. I have to concentrate.”
“So, you’re not rushed now. Let’s see you throw a fireball. Just a little one.”
“We’re supposed to be hiding, remember?” Sael snapped. “It’s bad enough we had to light a fire to dry off. If I start throwing fireballs around, they’ll be seen for leagues in all directions.”
Koreh’s derisive snort was the last straw. Sael turned and stalked over to the edge of the clearing. After searching the underbrush for a moment, he found what he was looking for—a sturdy branch about the length of a walking staff.
Koreh was watching him w
ith a smirk on his face when he returned to the fire.
Trying to ignore him, Sael lifted the branch up over his head so it lay horizontally. Then with both hands gripping it firmly, he said, “Grab hold.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll show you something not even your Taaweh could do. Now grab on!”
Koreh hesitated only a moment before accepting whatever challenge Sael was offering him. He approached the boy, looking him dead in the eye before reaching up with one hand to grab the staff.
“Both hands,” Sael insisted, “and hold on tight.”
“Yes, little lord.” Koreh’s voice was mocking.
Sael frowned. “Hold on tight, or you’ll die. I mean it.”
“Fine. I’m holding on.”
The apprentice vönan closed his eyes and began chanting under his breath. It wasn’t easy, because in order for Koreh to grasp the staff, he had to press his body against Sael’s. And he was still naked. That was incredibly distracting, even with the linen undertunic separating their bodies. But the thought of further humiliation if he failed forced Sael to focus.
In the dark, with Druma obscured by clouds, Sael knew his power would be very limited. He could feel the magical energy he’d stored up during the day like a fire burning in his chest and head, but not nearly as hot as he often felt it—the pervasive fog had prevented him from drawing much power, even at midday. Still, it should be enough.
Sael chanted under his breath, ancient words given to men by the gods that simultaneously unlocked channels in the body for the energy to flow through and protected the body from the energy it channeled. This was one of the reasons the training of a vönan was such a slow, painstaking process—it took years to learn how to channel the energy safely before a master would dare allow his pupil to experiment with powerful spells. Every apprentice at the academy had heard horror stories of overzealous pupils bursting into flames. The stories may not all have been true, but the masters never bothered to contradict them.
When the chant ended, Sael opened his eyes to find Koreh watching him with apprehension. Clearly the magic of the Stronni still made him very uncomfortable. He looked as though he were about to say something when the staff suddenly jerked upward, lifting both young men off the ground.
Sael had been prepared for it, but Koreh panicked for a second, scrambling for a tighter grip.
Sael couldn’t help laughing as the staff came to a stop about ten feet above where they’d been standing. “Don’t fall.”
“I’m fine.” Koreh’s startled expression turned to one of defiance. “Is this all you had to show me? We’re barely off the ground.”
Suddenly he gasped as the staff flew upward again, this time coming to a stop just a short distance above the treetops. Koreh hooted in delight.
“Quiet!” Sael said under his breath, though he was secretly pleased. “You’ll wake Master Geilin.”
Koreh ignored him, laughing and twisting his head this way and that to take in the unusual vantage point. “Take us higher!”
“Hang on, then—tight!”
Now that the spell had been cast, it took little effort for Sael to control it, like turning the wick up on a lantern. He felt the energy flowing from his core increase and the two of them began to soar upwards. Higher and higher they climbed, until the light from the campfire seemed far, far below. Despite the night being overcast, the Eye cast a soft blue-gray light over everything, diffused through the clouds, and the gently waving treetops stretching off into the distance all around them seemed ethereal and beautiful.
He feared for a moment he’d overdone it. If Koreh lost his grip, Sael wasn’t sure he’d be able to save him from falling. But Koreh was laughing now like a young child being spun around in his father’s arms. He was loving this and had dropped all pretense of superiority. When his eyes met Sael’s, Sael saw admiration in them for the first time. And he knew that he would do anything for that look.
But then he glanced past Koreh, and what he saw made his blood run cold. A vast number of tiny spots of light dotted the ground in the distance, hazy in the mist but still visible. They weren’t the lights of Mat’zovya—he could see those on the far side of the lake. These were just beyond, in the fields between the old city and the new. They had to be campfires.
Hundreds of them.
“We’re being followed!” he exclaimed.
“Where?” Koreh started twisting around, trying to see what Sael was looking at.
“Stop squirming, you idiot!”
Sael caused the staff to rotate so Koreh could see without having to strain. Koreh’s expression turned grim.
“We’d better go back down,” he said.
“I WAS afraid of this,” Geilin said, sipping a new cup of tea near the fire. The boys had awakened him as soon as they landed. “The emperor has sent an army.”
Koreh said, “They still have to cross the lake, and that will take at least a day with ships ferrying them back and forth. Maybe two days.”
“That may not be practical,” Geilin said, “especially if they have horses with them. I suspect they’ll skirt the lake to the south.”
“Which will add at least another day. Then they have to go through the swamps, and that will be slow going if they do have horses with them. Horses will slow them down in the forest too.”
“Once they reach the plains,” Geilin said, “the cavalry will be at an advantage, but they’ll have to hold back for the foot soldiers. Still, it won’t take more than six or seven days for them to reach the dekan’s castle. We’ll have to pick up our pace if we’re to beat them there.”
Something had been puzzling Koreh ever since the beginning of this conversation. “If you and Sael can fly,” he asked, “why have we been walking this entire time?”
“I can’t fly very far,” Sael mumbled, obviously loath to admit it.
“And I,” Geilin added, putting his empty cup down on the ground in front him, “have been too weak. But the healing phials we picked up in Mat’zovya have been aiding me along, and I think I’m nearly recovered at this point. I’ll have to risk it, at any rate. There is no longer time for us to journey by foot.”
He stood and told them, “We should have a few hours to sleep. But first thing in the morning, be prepared to move. No doubt they’ve brought ömem. Once the fog lifts, they’ll see us, whether we fly or not. They’ll have brought several mages with them, if they intend to attack Harleh, and those vönan can fly as well as we can. They can catch up to us before the army itself is upon us, and once we’re on Harleh Plain, we’ll be easy targets for them. We’ll need to cross it quickly and reach the safety of the keep.”
THE rest of the journey out of the forest the next morning was swift, now that they’d taken to the air. But although Koreh was delighted, laughing and whooping as he hung onto Sael’s staff like a young boy getting his first pony ride, Sael wasn’t enjoying it much. He hadn’t done much flying at this stage in his training. And he was carrying not only Koreh’s weight, but two packs as well—one strapped to Koreh’s back and the other strapped to his own. It took all his concentration to keep them up in the air, and Koreh didn’t make it easy. He kept squirming to look at things as they flew past.
Sael found this endearing, but frustrating nonetheless. And he fretted about Koreh dropping off and plummeting to his death. They’d rigged a sash around one of his wrists and the staff as a precaution, but Sael didn’t trust it to hold if Koreh really lost his grip.
By the time they reached the edge of the plain, he was exhausted and barely keeping them high enough to avoid clipping the shrub-like trees with their feet. His landing was more of a rough tumble than the graceful tiptoe landing Geilin made. Fortunately, neither he nor Koreh got hurt, though the sash binding Koreh’s wrist to the staff tore apart as Sael had feared it might.
They were at the edge of a vast sea of tall grass with occasional islands of fruit trees and flowering shrubs. The Empire Road led into the grass but was so overgrown it was nearly
invisible. Harleh Plain was mostly flat with low, rolling hills, but the mountains to the north and the tall, forested hills to the south created a wide valley. Far in the distance, off to the northeast, Sael could barely see the towers of Harleh Keep poking above the horizon.
Sael collapsed on his back, panting heavily, and Koreh squatted near him, finding amusement in popping off the heads of some small blue wildflowers growing in the grass. Like a boy half his age, he started tossing them at Sael’s open mouth, until Sael snarled, “Quit it!” and sat up.
Koreh laughed and tumbled over onto his side. “I think I got one in. You’re probably going to die.”
“Next time I should just drop you.”
Geilin watched them for a moment in amusement, then looked up at the sky and sighed. The cloud cover that had shielded them during the night was breaking up, and their progress would soon be visible to the Eye of Atnu and the emperor’s ömem. They would have to make their trek across the plains in broad daylight. “We don’t have long to rest. They won’t want us to reach the keep and give warning of the coming attack.”
“What can they do if they’re out of range?” Koreh asked.
“Catch up,” the old man replied. “Not the entire army, of course—they can only travel so fast. But I’m certain one or two mages will fly ahead to deal with us.”
Sael had finally recovered his breath and was contemplating this. He knew he’d never be able to fly the entire distance to the keep. He looked up at his master and said, “I can run much farther than I can fly.”
Geilin stroked his beard, considering.
“With our friend on your back?”
“I think so,” Sael replied, standing up and brushing the flowers off his lap. “If we tie him on, perhaps.”
Koreh was looking back and forth between the two, clearly confused. “Run?”
“Not the way you’re thinking,” Sael said. “It’s a combination of flying and running that I taught myself when I was younger.” To the best of his knowledge, Sael had invented it. Nobody else in the capital had ever used the technique. “I’ve had much more practice at it.”
