Magicless

by K. Ferrin

  “Well, I am happy to see you. I’m glad you have joined us,” Alekka said, and then moved back to her awellen, pulled the anchor back to her hand, and walked away from camp to bathe.

  When she returned to the fire, clean and somewhat more relaxed, Ashier and Tredon had returned from their hunting trip empty handed. Tredon ate, but his brow was stormy as he glared at Micah from across the fire. Ashier seemed more impassive. Alekka watched Micah ignore Tredon as if he didn’t exist. In fact, he ignored all of them. He behaved as if he were camping on his own with no other person in sight. He cooked, he ate, he cleaned, and then he rolled himself into a bedroll without uttering a word or looking at anyone.

  As the fire died down, Alekka glanced at the dark clouds lingering in Tredon’s eyes. She didn’t think there was real enmity there, but even a slight pissing match between the two of them could end badly for Micah. Then again, he’d caught and prepared them all supper without magical aide, and she’d seen him wield those metal weapons he carried around in a fight. An unwelcome member of the party he may be for some, but useless he most certainly was not.

  [ 8 ]

  Dawn came early at the edge of the wood skirting the foot of the mountains. Magicless woke when it touched his eyelids. He kept still, listening to the forest wake up around him. He had lived his entire life in the Oakwood, and had rarely set foot outside of it. In truth, this was as far as he’d ever been from Aclay. He loved the soft light, diffused by the thick layer of green branching above, the frequent brooks and ponds…the wood was in his blood. The thought of taking one step beyond its boundary made his heart beat with excitement and his throat clench up with sadness. He was leaving everything he had ever known behind him, and he was doing it without a single friendly face at his side. These people he was traveling with felt more like enemies than friends.

  He’d walked into camp last night carrying a large deer across his shoulders and grinning with achievement. He was a damn good hunter, and that had been his first opportunity to prove it to the others. Only Jobin and Leali had been in camp when he’d arrived, their eyes opening wide in shocked surprise. Neither of them had said a word to him or to each other as he had settled next to the fire and begun cooking generous venison steaks for the group. He knew that none of them wanted him there, but he would prove his worth nevertheless. And if they didn’t see his value after that? Well, they could ignore him and exclude him, but he was there to stay whether they liked it or not. He was going on this journey. The only thing truly bothering him was Alekka. She had never treated him the way the others had. Until the cave.

  His face burned with shame at recalling how completely Tredon had dismissed him when he’d volunteered to come on this journey. None of them had even acknowledged that he had spoken, as if he were a ghost that none could hear. It’s not that he’d expected much better, but it still gnawed at him. In the end, if everyone reacted as if they had not heard you speak, was it any different from being an actual shade? Alekka’s lack of reaction had stung the most. He expected it from them, but not from her.

  She had seemed genuinely happy to see him last night, but he couldn’t find it in himself to trust her sincerity—at least not yet. Never mind that now, Magicless thought, stretching his sore limbs and cracking the bones in his spine. He’d prove his capability to them in time, whether they wanted to accept it or not. Magicless smiled when he thought of the outraged look on Tredon’s face as he and Ashier had stumbled back to camp empty handed only to find him there with a large kill.

  He watched as the sunlight first touched the distant mountain peaks and then as it traveled slowly down the craggy face of the mountains. It was beautiful in an empty, harsh way. Frequent patches of wood lay scattered low on the shoulders of the mountains, but the trees vanished halfway up and only barren rock remained visible above that. He’d never been up on those mountains, and his feet itched to get moving.

  The others were still fast asleep, but he pushed his sleeping roll back and climbed to his feet. Mages were always late starters in the morning. It came with everything being so easy for them. It was different for him. He was up at dawn cutting wood and getting his forge fire lit, cooking his food in metal or wood bowls as opposed to bowls of air or water, washing his clothes-their magic did all of these things for them in a fraction of the time it took him. He blew the smoldering camp fire back into flame and set a pot of water over it to boil, tossing in lemon and mint from his pack. He tossed some of the venison he’d cooked last night next to the fire to warm up. As the food cooked, he packed up his sleeping roll and cleaned the equipment he’d used to cook dinner the night before, packing each as he washed and dried it.

  By the time the others began stirring he’d finished, and was leaning on his pack sipping steaming hot tea and gnawing a chunk of meat, waiting. Alekka acknowledged him with a nod and gave him a worried look but said nothing as she prepared for another day of travel. Tredon avoided even looking in his direction. Magicless gave a soundless sigh. It was going to be a long journey if they all refused to even speak with him around.

  The others packed up quickly, skipping breakfast, and soon they were walking through the tall grass headed toward the foot of the towering mountains. Despite the lack of enthusiasm from the others regarding his presence, Magicless’ tread was swift and light, and he developed an almost absurd spring in his step as they pushed further towards the mountains. Finally, he was doing something. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction at that.

  Today it was Tredon, Ashier, and Leali who led the way. Surprisingly, Elisa paired herself up with Jobin for the day, and Magicless frequently caught her chatting amiably with him as they moved through the landscape. Jobin seemed less than thrilled with the attention, frowning and shuffling his feet, and Magicless laughed to himself at his gruff one-word answers to her questions. For her part, Elisa shrugged his awkward manner off, clearly enjoying the day despite her companion’s obvious confusion as to why she’d pinned her attentions on him.

  Alekka trailed between Tredon and Jobin, quiet and reserved as usual, speaking with no one. She always was one to walk her own path, Magicless found himself thinking fondly despite himself. More than once he saw her looking his way and once he sensed an invitation to join her in her expression, but he’d just hardened his own and looked away. She stood with the others at the cave, he reminded himself, and upped his pace.

  The day passed in a bubble of silence for Magicless, though the others seemed to relax into the journey as the day and the miles passed. Tredon, Leali, and Ashier laughed loudly and often, and Magicless wondered how many of those jokes involved him in their punch lines.

  Late in the afternoon Magicless moved aside from the group, paralleling them at a good distance as he watched for game. He held his bow loosely, arrow ready. He could easily track the mages if they changed direction at all, and he was hungry. The mages themselves flushed plenty of game with all the noise they were making chatting and laughing.

  The sun was hanging low in the sky when they stopped and began setting up camp. Magicless had three rabbits and two pheasants hanging from his pack as he joined back up with them. Elisa knelt before a newly started fire. Magicless dropped his pack, pulled a long skinning knife from it, and squatted next to her as he skinned the game for dinner. Alekka spelled a pot out of the air above the fire, anchored it, and syphoned water into it from the supply she’d carried with them all day. She added herbs and vegetables she’d apparently been collecting throughout the day as she traveled. Magicless changed tactics and sliced the meat into large chunks for stew.

  He looked up to see Tredon, arms crossed on his chest, eyes narrowed, his jaw tightly clenched. Ashier stood beside him, one hand resting on his shoulder. “Tredon, let’s go take a dip in the river we saw back a short way,” he said lightly.

  Magicless focused back on the meat, but the muscles across his back tightened in anticipation. Tredon could kill him with the flick of a finger if he chose. Magicless was skilled with a blade, but he kn
ew that he couldn’t hope to harm Tredon before the mage harmed him if it came to that.

  “Yes, let’s all go,” Alekka said. “This needs to cook for at least an hour.”

  The tension broke as she tossed the rest of her collected crop into the pot, grabbed Leali by the arm, and raced out of camp back toward the stream they’d crossed not fifteen minutes before. Elisa laughed and draped an arm each around both Tredon and Ashier. “Come on, boys. You both stink worse than a sack of dirty drawers on laundry day. Bet you a day of carrying your packs that I’ll beat you both back to the stream.”

  Tredon shot Magicless one last steely look, then turned to Elisa. “You’re on!” he said, dropping his pack and speeding off in the direction Leali and Alekka had gone. Magicless heard Tredon chanting under his breath and stared in surprise as the very air seemed to part before him and swirl into a gust at his back, practically picking him up and sweeping him along the ground without effort on his part—at least no effort from his feet.

  Magicless relaxed. He tossed the meat into the stew pot and laid his bedroll out away from the others. He had no idea if Alekka had done that for his benefit or not, but he was thankful regardless. Direct confrontation with Tredon was not likely to end well for him. He would not leave, but he would do what he could to not antagonize the man.

  Magicless had eaten his share of the stew and retired to his bedroll by the time they returned. No one came to check on him as they all dug into their dinner.

  [ 9 ]

  She was running, her bare feet whispering against rough-cut stone, her arms bare and chilled. She had no idea why she was running, or whether she was running toward something or away, but her heart pounded in her chest. The corridor stretched on for what seemed an eternity, with no end visible in either direction. Random branches jutted off at irregular intervals with nothing to signify their purpose or destination. They all looked the same, had the same dank-cave smell, and the same chilled touch on her skin.

  She blinked and found herself inside a vast chamber—so large she could see neither the ceiling nor the far side; both simply vanished into the dim reaches beyond the light. This chamber was warm. There was a long table—enough to fit thirty people on each side with plenty of elbow room—that ran along its center. On the far side from where she stood a line of fires burned cheerily, casting warmth and light into the room.

  This room was different from the long hallway she’d just been in. The walls were smooth stone, there was warmth on her skin and cheery firelight to see by, and it smelled fresh and clean and delicious. She approached the table slowly, finding it heavily laden with steaming food and chilled wine. Her stomach rumbled and pinched in hunger. She looked around, saw no one, and reached to grab a red pepper stuffed to overflowing with what looked like rice and hearty vegetables.

  “Yes, please. Help yourself, my dear.”

  The voice startled her and she jumped back from the table, yanking her hand to her chest. There was a man sitting at the far end. She’d approached about a quarter of the way up its length from where she’d entered the room and had not seen the slight figure sitting there.

  “Oh, none of that, my dearest, please. I did not mean to startle you. Help yourself. It is hot and fresh.”

  He sat calmly, one hand resting calmly beside his plate, and the other hovering over a wine glass filled with a ruby-sheened liquid. He was lean, and sat tall and proper. As she looked he came more sharply into focus-full lips, emerald eyes, and long, white hair that curled at his shoulders. She found his strange features to be quite appealing. She felt herself moving toward him.

  She felt as if there were a rope wrapped at her waist on which the man gently tugged, pulling her in his direction. Gentle, but undeniable and persistent. She paused, inspecting a plate filled with pastries dripping with honey, and her stomach gave a loud gurgle. The man at the end of the table chuckled; a rich sound that filled her with wonder, and she felt a momentary slacking in the pull toward him.

  “Yes, my dear. Eat, please.”

  “Who are you?” She asked as she reached for a pastry, her mouth watering with anticipation of the smooth feel of honey on her tongue. As she pulled one of the pastries from the plate, however, she saw a spider, small and black, struggling to free itself from the thick honey. She froze, staring, and looked up to see milky eyes staring out of a pale and heavily wrinkled face. Greasy white hair hung in thick strands, clumped randomly around an otherwise bare skull. Her heart stopped beating and her lungs refused to pull air.

  “No!”

  She jerked upright to find herself in camp, the others still fast asleep in their bedrolls, all except Micah. He was crouching in front of a roiling fire prepping breakfast, his eyes on her. She tried to suppress a shudder at the memory of the dream, of the spider trapped in thick, sweet honey. And that man with his rich, smooth voice, her compulsion to be near him…she shivered again and looked away from Micah, not wanting to invite conversation. She didn’t know what the dream meant, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

  The others woke, ate a quick breakfast, and then set off for the day. Alekka knew she was even more withdrawn than usual, but she doubted anyone noticed. She always held herself separate, and it was doubtful any of the others paid enough attention to notice she was more introspective than usual. The only exception was Micah, who she caught glancing at her circumspectly from time to time. Thankfully he did not approach her or try to strike up a conversation. He was still mad at her, and she still did not know why. This is why I avoid people, she thought with a sigh. Easier that way.

  * * *

  They settled into habit surprisingly fast. They woke at dawn and walked through the day, stopping to make camp only as the day inevitably descended into night. Micah hunted every afternoon, but Alekka noticed that he began catching only enough for himself or just enough to contribute slightly to the community pot. She smiled at what was obviously his attempt at keeping peace between himself and Tredon, and she was pleased to see that this seemed to mollify Tredon enough. He went back to simply ignoring Micah rather than staring at him as if he were considering blasting him with magefire.

  She was somewhat disappointed, though, that the others largely ignored him still. He was used to it, she was sure, and she shouldn’t have expected anything more, but she’d hoped they would have accepted him quickly once he began showing his value. At least they were not trying to kick him out or leave him behind.

  Alekka was also surprised to see how quickly Elisa went about working her angle with Jobin. Most days Elisa’s tall form and glinting braid could be seen beside the lean height and dusty brown hair of Jobin. Sometimes they walked in silence but more often in easy banter. She took her morning and evening meals with him, as well. Jobin seemed confused by her attention—flattered but maybe also a bit irritated. But Elisa was relentless and unflappable. When he refused to speak she would sit in amiable silence or sing softly to herself—or, perhaps, to Jobin. Alekka couldn’t tell which, and she never asked. When Elisa first tried to lay her bedroll out next to him, he’d gotten up and moved to another spot. But Elisa was as relentless in this as she was walking by his side during the day. Eventually he’d give up until the next night, when the dance would begin anew. His stubbornness was quite impressive, really. This continued for days before he finally relented and accepted her presence next to him as he slept.

  In all honesty, Alekka thought, Jobin needed someone in his life to distract him. Vengeance was like a hard stone lodged in one’s soul. He needed something vibrant, soft, and warm to care about and to keep him, and them all, safe and alive. Alekka found she envied him. Not Elisa’s attentions, but the companionship. She’d never sought companionship—the woods and her small interactions with the people of Aclay were enough for her. But out here on the road the loneliness was more palpable. The dreams were starting to worry her, and she longed for someone to talk to about them. Although their days had been quite easy and even enjoyable so far, the weight o
f their goal hung heavy on her. When she’d first seen Micah at the campfire, part of her joy at seeing him stemmed from the thought that she would have a friend to confide in. But that had become impossible the moment she’d seen the cold distance in his gaze. So, her days and nights were spent at the edges of the group, there but not there, speaking little and wondering fretfully about what lay ahead. She would lie on her back, staring up at the stars late into the night. She found no comfort in their cold and remote shimmer.

  Alekka wondered endlessly about how they would find the Dark Lands and Nox Noctis Tower. The old man in the cavern had been telling true—no one had seen the Map Maker for hundreds of years. They were traveling all this way based on legend, and those legends gave only the most vague descriptions of where and how to seek him out. What if that turned out to be nothing but myth after all? Where would that leave them?

  Worse still, what of the rumors? The Bogul Noz was said to live in the heart of a vast and swampy forest. Or high on a mountaintop far above the clouds. Or deep in a cavern where the light of the sun never shone. All the stories mentioned fearsome creatures that would stop at nothing to destroy trespassers. The stories were many but the details were scarce, which made them far more ominous. Surely if more had survived to tell the tale, more detail would be available, Alekka thought as she watched the stars one night. The lack of information also lent truth to the dangers ahead of them, whether in a deep cave, high on a mountain, or in a swampy wood.

  They continued in this manner for weeks—first through the forest they all called home, then into the wide-open grasslands at the foot of towering mountains where prey was plentiful but water preciously rare, and then up onto the Shoulders of the Gods where rock was plentiful, the animals small and furtive, and the nights increasingly cold. Amongst the towering mountains wide valleys nestled, welcoming them with open arms, their soft woodlands and ponds a much-needed respite from the enormous scale and hardness of the mountains themselves.