Crimson Fury

by Mirren Hogan

  “The well is hidden from the magula,” the child replied, her voice low. “We cannot see exactly where it is.”

  “But others are looking?” Tabia asked.

  The child nodded. “The magula seek the well. You must find the well.”

  Tabia knew that already. “Can you tell me if we’re going to right way?”

  “The well is hidden from—” the child started again.

  “From the magula. All right.” Tabia sighed. “Do you know where they’re looking?”

  The child hesitated, as if she were listening for something.

  “Iljosk,” she finally replied.

  Tabia resisted the urge to snap at the girl. This was getting them nowhere. She tried something different.

  “How do we help the magula when we find it? You said you need to bathe in magic, will that remove it from you?” That made sense. The magic had sought out other magic during the removal.

  “I don’t know.” For some reason, the child began to cry, softly, but as poignantly as the little girl she should actually be; the carefree youngster untouched by the Outpouring.

  “I’m sorry.” Tabia reached a hand out to touch her arm lightly. The child’s skin made her fingertips tingle uncomfortably. “We’ll try to find a way to fix this and get you back to your family, I promise. Please don’t cry.” Children were not her forté, especially crying ones.

  “What’s your name?” She hadn’t even thought to ask before now. Maybe the only way to return the magula back to normal people was to free the magic which still dwelled within them. Couldn’t they just do a removal here and now? Maybe if she just—

  The child’s head snapped around, her eyes dry now, but wide. Her mouth gaped, but nothing came out. In the blink of an eye, she turned back to a shadow of midnight and was gone.

  “Wait!” Tabia called after her, but she was alone. She sagged and exhaled. She’d learnt basically nothing from the encounter, except that the child knew to seek her out when she needed to feed. Perhaps next time, she’d get more from her. Although, she has had to concede the possibility that the child couldn’t tell her anything because she didn’t know. Her past life might not be something she could recall. Magic had some odd effects at times and Zuleso only knew what being filled with it would do.

  Or, she thought, having it all removed after such a long time. There was a chance the child wouldn’t survive such an ordeal. Would death be better than living like she was, not really there, unable to learn and grow? Did Tabia, or any of them, have the right to make such a choice? Ezeji probably wouldn’t stop to think twice.

  She shook her head. Unless they found the well and managed to keep it safe, then none of the speculation mattered. They didn’t know where any other magula were. At this point, the child was their only connection to them and she didn’t seem ready to stick around long enough to have the magic removed from her.

  “Tabia?” Isobel’s sleepy voice called out for the door of the tent.

  “Over here,” she called back, keeping her voice low. “Sorry, I just—needed some air.” She didn’t like lying to Isobel, but the truth was too peculiar. She’d just been out, casually feeding a magical ghostly, shadow-child with her fingers. No, perhaps it was better that Isobel didn’t know about that, and the rest of the conversation had been too meaningless to share.

  She walked back and slipped into the tent, letting the door flaps close behind her.

  “Are you all right?” Isobel whispered.

  “I’m fine. Really,” Tabia assured her. She lay down beside her and snuggled up to her. “Go back to sleep.” She intended to do just that. She rested her head on the rolled blanket she’d been using as a pillow and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she heard Isobel’s breathing become regular. Sleep eluded her for a long time though, as her mind went over and over every detail of her encounter with the magula.

  ***

  Tabia looked down at the ground, squinting to see the footprints in the dirt. She could make hers out, leading from where Harshal, Ezeji and Isobel were packing up the tent, right up to where she’d stood, letting the magula feed. Hers were the only prints. Why had she thought there would be any sign? Maybe she’d been hoping to find something, some indication that there was still a child left to be saved.

  “You saw the magula again, didn’t you?” Adina’s voice made her jump and twirl around.

  The young woman took a step back, alarmed. Of course she would be, she’d seen what Tabia could do. “I’m sorry, “ she said quickly, “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  Adina gave a nervous smile. “I should have spoken up or something . . . ”

  An awkward silence fell until Tabia broke it. “Yes, she woke me last night. She—was hungry.”

  Adina swallowed. “Are . . . are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. She was very gentle, if not helpful.”

  “Oh? You asked her about the well?”

  Tabia nodded. “If she knows anything, she didn’t tell me.”

  “But you don’t think she knew?” Adina guessed.

  “No, I don’t. I think she wants to help us, if only for her own survival.”

  “Poor thing,” Adina said. “She must be so scared. It was bad enough for me and I’m older. But if the collectors hadn’t found me . . . ” She shuddered.

  There was little Tabia could say to that. Being bound by magic must have been terrifying.

  “I just wish we knew how many more there are out there,” she said. “We could be facing a dozen, or an army of magula.” She regretted her words when she saw the horrified look on Adina’s face.

  “I’m sure there aren’t that many,” she added hastily. “But we need to secure the well, to make sure we keep them all alive, then we can find them and help them.” She hoped that was Sevele’s plan at least.

  Adina nodded, looking satisfied at that. “We should go and help with the tent.”

  “Ay,” Tabia agreed. She walked beside the younger woman, but she couldn’t help glancing down at the ground. She saw Adina’s prints added to her own, but that was all. Part of her wondered if she’d been dreaming, but she knew she hadn’t.

  “How nice of you ladies to help,” Harshal called out as they approached. He tossed Tabia a blanket, which she promptly started to roll up.

  “Sorry, we were just talking,” Adina said, grabbing up another blanket. “The magula came back last night. Tabia saw her.”

  Tabia caught Isobel’s startled look, which turned to one of hurt before she looked away.

  “I was going to tell you all,” Tabia said, “I just didn’t have much to say.” She handed the folded blanket back to Harshal and moved to take Isobel by the arm. She drew her away a little.

  “I’m sorry, I should have told you, I just didn’t want to worry you,” she said softly.

  Isobel kept her eyes down, but Tabia saw a tear sparkle on her lashes. “It is all right. I understand. You do not have to tell me everything.” Her tone was stiff, almost polite.

  “Please look at me,” Tabia said. “Please.”

  Isobel raised her eyes a little, but not enough to meet Tabia’s. She wouldn’t push her, she knew her lover rarely made eye contact with anyone. This little bit of acquiescence would have to do.

  “The magula is—terrifying. She’s killed at least two people, if only by accident. She followed us all the way here and woke me because she wanted me to feed her. I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “You do not think I am already scared?” Isobel asked, her eyes flicking up for a fraction of a second. “You almost killed a ship full of people for me. I think you would tear the world apart to save the guild and the magic from these—monsters. I am scared to think it might come to that. I am scared of what you might do; what you might have to do.”

  Tabia stared at her. “Are you scared of—” She hardly dared to finish, “—me?” She’d been angry and impetuous back in Kalolak, but it had never crossed her mind that her inadvertent display of power might have been
a source of fear to anyone other than Fanashil. The last thing she’d intended was to make Isobel afraid. Of course, she hadn’t thought at all.

  “I—” Isobel swallowed. “What you can do with magic, it is . . . ”

  Tabia released her arm and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. I never wanted that. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

  “I know.” Isobel stepped forward, closing the gap again. “I do not think I really understood how powerful you were until the ship.”

  Of course she wouldn’t. Tabia hardly used magic in front of Isobel, although it wasn’t deliberate. She used magic to train other sorcerers, or to lift heavy objects, and occasionally people. She could go days without using it at all. Her display the previous morning was like nothing she’d done in years. Isobel had probably only seen her pick up a mug of kawaha and reheat it a little, or pick up a book from across the room. She would have seen other sorcerers at work, but not doing anything big.

  “I’ve been so thoughtless,” she said. “I should have shown you what magic can do. Or found another way to stop the Grandai.” How, she had no idea. “Do you want to go back to Kalolak? I’m sure Tanatu would—”

  “No!” Isobel surprised her with her vehemence. Her blue eyes were looking straight into hers Tabia’s. “My place is with you. It is the safest place.”

  Tabia wasn’t sure about that, but she was grateful for Isobel’s devotion.

  CHAPTER 39

  The dragons didn’t seem to be bothered by Darai’s presence. He’d retreated a safe distance back toward the cave mouth and sat pressed against the wall. From here he could see them, and keep an eye on them.

  He decided that the ones which were green with brown bellies must be males, the females being a duller brown with a greenish tinge. The females also seemed to be a little smaller and made a higher pitched sound he could only describe as a warble.

  One of the males caught a large rabbit, with huge fearful eyes, which grunted and wriggled in the creature’s jaws until it bit down hard, killing it. They all seemed to delight in tearing it apart and swallowing chunks of it, even though none would have eaten much.

  Darai wasn’t concerned with how much they ate, as long as they didn’t seem interested in eating him. All they had done was to sniff in his direction and go back to enjoying the rain.

  It seemed hours until the storm passed. Darai must have dozed off, because he woke to see shafts of sunlight slanting into the cave. He looked around carefully before standing, but saw no sign of the dragons. With careful steps he walked toward the opening where he’d seen them. The bones of the rabbit lay on the ground in a random manner, as though they’d been spat out after the meat was chewed away. For some reason, that made him shudder. Perhaps because it seemed like such a human thing to do, which suggested some level of intelligence. Animals were food or bait; they weren’t supposed to be smart.

  He’d been hoping to find a sheltered place on the other side of the cave, a hidden nook where the stones would offer shelter from wind and prying eyes. To his disappointment, the opening only led to the other side of the rocks and back into the trees. Several large boulders lay scattered around, and it was here he found the dragons, apparently sunning themselves.

  “In the name of the gods man, you are easy to track.”

  A voice behind him spoke so suddenly Darai jumped, turned and raised his makeshift spear.

  He half-expected a wizened old cave-dweller from the stories his mother used to tell him, but the man standing before him was anything but wizened. He was young, maybe only a handful of years older than Darai. His hair was a little longer and a much lighter brown. He had light brown skin, lighter than Harshal’s, and pale brown eyes over a wide mouth and a narrow chin. He was smiling, but his sorcerer’s guild robes and tall, plain, wooden staff made Darai frown.

  “You followed me?” he asked. The answer was obvious. How long had he been tracking him? He’d seen and heard no one since leaving Joluwei, although he’d stopped looking once he’d left the dusty road behind. How foolish he’d been, to think he might be safe here. No, he corrected himself, he’d never felt safe, but he’d been sure he was alone. This man proved otherwise and that rankled deeply.

  “Of course, you did not think the guild would let a powerful sorcerer go out into the world alone and unwatched?” The man brushed dirt from his robe and shrugged. “I would have kept my distance, but after that business at Joluwei, well—” He spoke flawless Mindossan, but with an odd accent, possibly Serainin.

  “You’ve come to execute me?” Darai jabbed the spear in the man’s direction as he spoke.

  “Gods no. Oh, I am Afruen, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.

  Darai eyed it, but didn’t accept it.

  “Right, well.” Afruen withdrew his hand. “It has cost the guild a small fortune in gold to appease the innkeeper, but only one person died. It took several hours to explain, but in the end I think he was fine with it all. Only the upstairs bit was damaged, in case you were wondering, so it is open for business again already. Do you mind if I sit? I have been walking for hours.” Without waiting for a reply, Afruen sat on the ground.

  After a few long moments, Darai lowered the spear and sat too, far enough away that he’d have time to act if the man struck out at him.

  “So, you’re not here to kill me?” he asked. “Why not? I killed someone. An innocent woman.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Afruen asked affably. He pulled a piece of fruit out of a pocket in his robe and bit down on it. Reddish-orange juice dribbled down his chin.

  “Sure about what, that I killed her or that she was innocent?”

  Afruen shrugged. “Both.”

  “I saw her face melt,” Darai replied. “You said someone died. Who else if not Hafta?”

  “Oh, she died all right,” Afruen said a little too easily. “But she was not what you thought she was. She is quite notorious for gathering up young women, getting them addicted to ayra and then making them sell their bodies for another hit.”

  Darai shook his head, disbelieving what he was hearing. “But it was just her and an empty wagon.”

  “She had just delivered a handful of girls to a brothel in Larafa.” Afruen wiped his chin with his sleeve. “We have been trying to track her to Chaq, to see where she was getting them. Well, she will not be getting them now. You have done the guild a favour.”

  Darai wasn’t sure he believed it, but it would explain why Hafta had been so angry at him for doing magic. Maybe she suspected that the guild knew about her and was worried he’d been sent to catch her in the act.

  “So, can you do me a favour in return?” he asked. “Go back to the guild and say you couldn’t find me?” It was a faint hope, but he got the answer he expected.

  “Sorry man, I cannot do that. Sevele sent me personally to find you. Something about not letting an important asset get away.”

  “Asset?” That made him sound like a table, or a bag of wheat.

  “Of course.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you are useful to the guild.”

  Darai snorted. “Have they run out of people to endanger?”

  “On the contrary,” Afruen replied.

  “Why am I not surprised,” Darai muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing. I don’t care about the guild, or what the guild needs. I don’t want to know about magic, sorcerers, or all of the politics behind it. I’m happy here.”

  “Here?” Afruen asked.

  “Yes.”

  “In this cave?”

  Darai hesitated. “Yes, in this cave.”

  “I agree it’s a very nice cave, but it is a bit dank and you seem to be without food. I would think you might be concerned about that. Unless you have the skill to turn magic into food?”

  “Sorcerers can do that?” Darai stared in surprise.

  “Oh, not that I know of,” Afruen said, “but they are coming up with new things all
the time. I once knew a man who could—”

  “I don’t care,” Darai snapped.

  “Really? It is quite an interesting story. You see—”

  Darai’s hand tightened on his spear.

  “Well it does not matter, I can tell you later when you are in a better mood. Now, where were we? Ah yes, the guild.”

  Darai couldn’t remember having met a more irritating person in his life. Being a sorcerer only made him more unbearable, and much less truthworthy.

  “The guild can go rot in the lowest of the seven hells for all I care,” he hissed. “Go back and tell them I’m not coming back. There’s nothing you can say that would change my mind.”

  “Not even if I mention Adina?” Afruen raised an eyebrow at him.

  Darai’s heart skipped a beat. “What about her?” He shouldn’t have asked. Curiosity was the best way to end up to your neck in a swamp, as his mother used to say. He’d never been quite sure what that meant, but the comparison of the guild to swampland seemed appropriate.

  “So you will hear me out?” Afruen asked.

  Darai sucked in a deep breath. “Will you go away after that?”

  “Oh, probably. I do not like dank caves, personally.”

  “Go on then.” Darai leaned his spear against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. There was no point in holding onto the weapon when Afruen had magic at his disposal. He’d be struck down before he even had the chance to raise it. “But be quick, I have food to hunt.”

  “You have heard of the well?” Afruen asked. “Oh, of course you have, you are the one the magula spoke to first. Well, Adina has gone looking for it.”

  “The well?” Darai must have misunderstood. Why would Adina, of all people, go looking for that?

  “Yes. Well, not just her. Tabia, Harshal, Kwame, and Ezeji.” There was a hint of something, perhaps worry, when he said the last name. Perhaps he cared for the man, which confirmed Darai’s suspicion that he wasn’t quite right in the head. Ezeji was as uptight and grumpy a man as he’d ever met.