A Dying Land (Magicfall Book 2)

by K. Ferrin

  A DYING LAND

  A NOVEL BY

  K. FERRIN

  A Dying Land

  Copyright © 2017 K. Ferrin

  Published by Pixie9 Press

  All rights reserved. All logos owned by Pixie9 Press

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Note:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Ravven Kitsune

  Editing Services: ExLibris Editing

  Interior Design: Tugboat Design

  www.kferrin.com

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Also by K. Ferrin

  Magicless

  Across the Darkling Sea

  The Poison of Woedenwoud (2018)

  For Howard and Sandy, thank you for always showing up.

  For Deanna, you will know it when you read it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Long after the menacing bulk of Fariss’s home had vanished from view, Ling moved back to her perch at the bow of the boat. The sun still shone high in the sky, and she turned her face toward it, hoping it would warm the cold pit of fear that had settled in her gut. It’s the foulest bit of magic ever done. She couldn’t get the captain’s words out of her mind. Fariss had opened some sort of a portal, started a war, and killed off the Mari. She shivered as she thought of Alyssum, alien and beautiful Alyssum, on board a ship with the man who had killed off all of her people.

  In her mind, information settled into place with an almost audible click. The tension she’d felt as Alyssum had climbed aboard, some of what she’d overheard while snugged beneath Drake’s cabin window, the deference with which everyone seemed to approach Fariss—it all made a dread sort of sense, if what she had just heard was true.

  All but one thing. Alyssum had shrugged off Drake’s concerns about Fariss as casually as Ling might shrug off a light spring rain. Neither Alyssum nor Drake had stopped her from going off with him once they’d arrived in port. He had been creepy, with that terrible smell, but he’d delivered her to the Registrary unharmed. She’d written nothing in the grimoire about anything worse than that.

  She turned back to look at the captain. He stood once again at the wheel, staring stonily off into the distance. He hadn’t said anything more about the warlock once they’d passed beyond the curve of the river and Fariss and his strange flickering home had disappeared out of sight. She rolled her shoulders, trying to release the tension building up there. None of it mattered to her. All she wanted was to get to the Colli Terra, find Grag, and break the curse. The politics of this place didn’t matter to her.

  It will be the death of all of us. She didn’t know if the Mincon’s captain had meant everyone in Marique or everyone in the world. She pushed the thought away. She would not be distracted by these people, warlock or Mari. But even as she tried to focus her attention on the river around her, the image of Fariss and the others staring down at her came unbidden to her mind. She had no interest in the politics swirling around her, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that those politics may, in fact, care a great deal about her.

  Fariss believed the Mari had a way to store magic, but maybe that skill didn’t belong to the Mari at all. Grag had been a warlock, there was no doubt of that, and he had made her, a being of magic who seemed to carry her own magic with her wherever she went. Maybe even more magic than what could be stored in the stones the warlocks used. What would Fariss do to her if it turned out she was the very thing he sought? Even as she considered this question, she remembered something she had read just that morning in the grimoire, a comment Fariss had made while they walked to the Registrary. He had said that he’d love to find a changeling and study it. If he discovered what she was…

  That thought terrified her, and worse, there was nothing she could do about it. Fariss knew who she was seeking. There was nothing to stop him from inquiring at the Registrary himself and learning where she was going. He might already know. Perhaps even more than she did herself.

  The way he had smiled down at her from his balcony as she’d drifted by on the Mincon. The way he had waved. And Treantos’s grim face. For all she knew, this entire thing was nothing but a set up. An elaborate plan to capture her away from the prying eyes of Malach, far from anyone who might be interested in helping her. She regretted not asking Drake for help. Fariss had opened the door for her, unsolicited, and she had walked right through it without even considering what his motivations might be.

  She felt like a fool. Her best friend—Evelyn’s best friend—Rudy, wouldn’t have made such a stupid error. Shera either. They would have asked the questions that needed asking. Witch had warned her, in the kitchen at her cabin, at the start of all of this. Or at least at the start of her memories as recorded in the Grimoire. “All people fear things. It’s what they do with that fear that matters to the rest of us,” Witch had said. Ling had written it down that day. Every word of it. It seemed important, though she hadn’t understood it then. Witch had settled in Meuse because while they feared and hated magic, all they did there was outlaw it.

  “It’s not the same everywhere you go, girl,” she’d said. It had felt like a warning then and felt like even more of one now. Fariss feared the Mari and the loss of magic, and in response to that fear he would go to any length to destroy them. Ling was so nervous, uncertain, afraid of everything and everyone. She worried that she had failed to ask the right questions and walked right into this mess. She’d taken the easy path Fariss had offered instead of using her wits and following her gut. Witch would be so disappointed in her.

  She rested her head against the railing and once again struggled to push shame and self-loathing aside. She had made it this far. She’d make it the rest of the way. She whispered that phrase to herself over and over again. I will make it the rest of the way. She let the words loose in the brisk wind, hoping they would be carried to someone with the power to make them true.

  The captain turned the Mincon, spilling wind from the sails as he nosed the boat up the wide mouth of a river outlet. There were very few houses this far out, but they were all intact and beautiful. They sprawled through tree branches, even crossing into neighboring trees, their wood so polished that they gleamed in the sunlight. They were neat and trimmed and had every appearance of being lived in and maintained. But it was as empty here as it had been in the abandoned area of Malach. She and the captain of the Mincon could have been the only two people left in all the world.

  As dusk began to fall, they approached a beautiful, sprawling structure that seemed to float on the very air itself. She could see roses climbing boisterously along something, a building of some sort, though she could see no walls beneath
the massive flowers and thick vines. It looked like the vines and flowers were themselves the walls and ceilings. She could see furniture inside, seeming to hover in midair. The building appeared to have no more substance than air, but it had all the accoutrements of a large house. Birds chittered brightly, flashing in and out of the intertwining vines, and the flowers gleamed brilliantly despite the falling light.

  She was confused by what she saw, but as they drew close she could see the house was made of some sort of material that was almost clear it was so transparent. Close enough in, though, she could see the imperfections in its surface, the slightly off color of the material as the fading sunlight shone through it. She’d never seen anything like it, and she stared at it wondering what it was, what it was made of, and how it was strong enough to support such a large structure.

  Ling imagined parties up on the wide patio above. She imagined people gathered in luminous robes of the finest schor, their laughter carrying in the quiet of an afternoon falling into evening. She imagined the tinkling of glasses, the low murmur of conversation spilling from those elegant heights. What would it feel like to live in such a place, to host such a party? To once again feel rich schor smooth against her skin and the soft kiss of a warm night on bared flesh?

  Yet this structure, for all its wonder and beauty, was as empty as all the others. Like the statues in Malach, this area was obviously maintained by someone. The vines were neatly cut back from the ledges, the interior clean, organized, and well kept. Whether someone lived there still or it was magic that kept the wildness at bay, she could not say.

  They sailed on long after the sun left the sky. Thick clouds rolled in, blocking the moon and stars from sight, the winds pushing the Mincon forward into the night. Ling refused to give up her perch despite the inky darkness and brisk wind. She couldn’t bear the thought of lying in the stinking bed alone with her thoughts.

  She looked out over the dark water, comparing the landscape to that of her home. The swamplands surrounding Meuse were comfortable, familiar, and relatively safe. There were wild cats that slept in the tortured branches of the zildeschor trees, but they were too small to be much of a threat to any except the smallest child. The most dangerous things in Brielle were the leeches and eels, with both their bites able to spread shrake rot.

  It was very different here. Vague shapes, long and thick as a man’s thigh, slithered through the water. Unfamiliar chirps and howls echoed through the trees. Glowing eyes appeared and vanished from the shadows on the banks in shades of red, yellow, and gold. From the size of those eyes, there were creatures plenty big enough to be cause for concern. They stared boldly, and Ling had the distinct impression that humans were on the menu for many of the area’s inhabitants.

  The moon had begun its descent toward morning when the Mincon left the main river and dropped anchor in a small inlet. Ling watched as the sails dropped from the mast, and the captain wound them up, tightly stowing them away.

  “We’ll stay here for a few hours,” the captain said, the chirruping and whistling around them falling immediately into silence at the sound of his voice. He spoke softly, but his voice seemed out of place here. “It’s warded, so we’ll be safe.”

  “Safe from what?” Warded was an unfamiliar word, but she assumed he meant the glyphs painted onto all the boats here. She peered out into the darkness, looking for similar symbols around them, but she couldn’t make out anything beyond the vague shadows of the trees.

  The captain glanced at her briefly as he moved around the boat, preparing it for a few hours of rest.

  “If you don’t know that already, it’s better to not know at all.” His voice was rough from hours of disuse, but not ungentle.

  Ling considered pushing the issue. But, recalling the toothy maws and puffy white faces of the sirené, she realized he was right. She wouldn’t change her mind or alter her course no matter what was out there. It was better not knowing. She had plenty of things to fear without adding to the list.

  “What should I call you?” she asked instead.

  A simple question, but it seemed to catch the man off guard. His hands stilled, and he stared off into the night. He was quiet so long that the soft chirruping of night insects picked back up again. The answer, when it came, was so quiet she could barely hear it.

  “Mercer.”

  He went back to work, and she watched him, finding comfort in his obvious competence with the boat.

  “You should sleep. We’re heading inland come daylight. Things are much harder from here on out. You’ll not likely sleep again.”

  She wondered if he meant for a few days or forever.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ling stepped out of the small cabin and stared up at the yellow orb hovering just above the horizon. The morning sky was stained pink where a smattering of puffy clouds hung low on the horizon, so still they might have been a painting. The world smelled wet, and indeed, as she walked across the deck, she found everything damp and dripping, although whether from rain or dew, she didn’t know.

  The ship was silent, Mercer clearly still fast asleep in whatever corner he’d stowed himself during the early hours of the morning. Her bare feet slapped softly against the deck as she walked across the smooth wooden surface. She came to a halt as she looked up. Several sets of eyes as large as carriage wheels stared back at her from the main channel of the river.

  The long shape of a massive reptile coiled and uncoiled in a slowly undulating mass just outside the inlet. The thing was massive—easily large enough to take down the Mincon. She realized the eyes were actually markings all along the serpent’s body. All except the pair on its bobbing head. This pair was hooded beneath a matching set of short horns, and they glared at her with glittering malice.

  “Me…Mercer…” She’d intended it as a shout, but the words barely made it past her frozen lips. The creature’s tongue flicked in and out as it slithered from one end of the small inlet to the other. Without warning, it threw itself toward her, but encountered some obstacle that held it at bay. It tried to push itself up and over the invisible barrier, and when that failed, it ducked its head into the water, only to return moments later to the surface. Despite its efforts, it came no closer. The serpent could not breach whatever it was that separated them.

  A small hiss leaked out of her mouth as she tried to force herself to breathe. The creature was beautiful. Its body was a silvery black with repeating iridescent green and gold scales that formed the eyes along its entire length. It opened its mouth, needle teeth extending outward as it sought to bite through the barrier that kept it from its breakfast.

  “Now you know.”

  Ling jumped. She hadn’t heard Mercer approach from behind.

  “What?” she asked reflexively. “Know…what?”

  “You asked about the wards,” he said, as he moved about the boat, yanking and pulling on rope as he went. “This one’s small compared to most of ’em.”

  “Are they…are they dragons?” Ling breathed. They couldn’t be. Such things didn’t exist. But then again, neither did tall, scaled women with claws and fangs. Or changelings, for that matter.

  “Of a sort, I suppose.” Mercer shrugged. “Doesn’t seem possible does it? River’s awful small for something so big.”

  The creature had given up on trying to chew its way through to them and had returned to pacing the length of the inlet, its body twisting up out of the water in humps that easily reached eight feet into the air. She wondered just how deep the water was.

  “How will we get out?” she asked.

  “Same as we got in.”

  “You said the inlet was warded. Won’t it be able to reach us once we move out of the inlet and into the main river?”

  The serpent patrolled the mouth of the inlet faster, speeding from one end to the other, tongue flicking out to taste the air around it every few seconds. She could feel the creature’s agitation and hunger.

  “It will get close enough to scare the piss right out of
you, but it can’t touch us. The Mincon is old—the paint’s all but rubbed off—but the glyphs still hold.”

  “Why ward the inlet then?” Ling asked.

  Mercer looked at her with mild curiosity. Such things were common knowledge for people who lived here, or for the type of person that would travel this route, she supposed. But he answered without any questions of his own.

  “The Colli Terra is a wild place. The magic here is untamed, unruly, and difficult to manage. There are all manner of creatures living here. Some, like this one, don’t change much, and over the years the Tovendieren have developed strong wards against them. But there are others that have evolved—and keep on evolving—and they’re much harder to protect against. It’s easier to ward a place, like this inlet, than it is a moving ship.”

  She knew so little about magic, she’d never even considered how things like glyphs actually worked. She wandered off as Mercer worked. In the tiny kitchen she brewed some coffee and slathered some butter and honey on two thick pieces of dark bread before going back out on deck. She handed Mercer a mug and some bread. He nodded his thanks, taking a bite of the honeyed slice.

  “What else is out here?” Ling asked, blowing into the steaming cup of coffee.

  Mercer’s expression darkened at her question. He chewed slowly, staring out into the main channel of the river, before answering.

  “Animals, mostly. But not like anything you’re accustomed to. They’re big. Smart. They’ve got magic of their own, too, which is why it’s so dangerous out here. Used to be no one would travel here without a warlock aboard, but those days are long past.”

  “Mostly?” Ling asked.

  Mercer glanced in her direction, his eyes not quite meeting hers. “There’re other things too. Not human, not animal either. Fariss made them when he opened that damned breach.” Mercer’s voice was low, almost choked, and she wondered at that.