Key to Magic 03 King

by H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  After a few seconds two men stood up to join the group and it became immediately apparent why Khlosb'ihs had cleared the walkway.

  Although the shorter man was about Mar's size, his companion was quite possibly the largest man that Mar had ever seen. With shoulders the width of two men, he stood as much as an armlength above the others and he looked to be, if it were even possible, as much as a span taller than Mhiskva.

  The group returned forward at a ponderous pace, with Khlosb'ihs, the brother-in-law Frem and the shorter man, who Mar took to be Orhv, in front of this giant, and the shipwright's watchful sons trailing him. Sholmiy and the others made room as the group approached, and the escorts spread out around Wilhm, none standing within three armlengths of him.

  Wilhm had a strong face with a hawk nose and a solid jaw, and a complexion that had seen a lot of sun. His hair was dark, almost midnight black. Like any large man, his movements were slow and precise but there was something frenetic in his green eyes that suggested incredible speed carefully restrained.

  Aunt Whelsi took a step forward and craned her head upward to look the giant in the eyes. Though not a small woman, she looked like a child next to Wilhm. "How are you feeling today, Wilhm? Have you been taking the powder in your tea like I told you?"

  Wilhm glanced once in passing curiosity at Mar and then turned his head down to focus on the nurse. "Yes, Aunt Whelsi. Just like you told me. Three times a day."

  His voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a well, with a barely perceptible delay between words.

  "How are the headaches?"

  "Better."

  "Have you had one today?"

  Wilhm's head moved from one side to the other.

  "Don't fib now."

  The giant grinned briefly. "Only a little one. I hardly noticed it."

  "That's right," Orhv confirmed. "When we first took to the air. It lasted only about a quarter of an hour and he didn't have any trouble with his eyes." Save for size, Orhv favored his brother a great deal, with similar features and frame. He looked some older though, with a dusting of gray in his black hair. "He stayed calm, too."

  Aunt Whelsi smiled. "Good. Now, Wilhm, I need to ask you a favor. This boy needs blood like yours and I'd like you to let me give him some of it."

  Wilhm looked at Mar again, but this time his gaze bored into the thief. "He is one of them."

  The nurse looked around at Mar, narrowed her eyes, then faced Wilhm once more. "The ones you dream about?"

  "Yes, the lost ones. If they come back, they will burn the land and drown it again."

  "You know I promised you that that won't happen again, Wilhm."

  "Yes, you did, Aunt Whelsi."

  "Now, you just come over here and we'll get this done. Afterwards, I want you to go find something to eat. Alright?"

  "All right, Aunt Whelsi."

  The nurse took the giant's hand and led him near Mar.

  The thief summoned the strength to croak, "Just exactly what are you going to do?"

  Aunt Whelsi took Mar's good hand and laid his wrist against Wilhm's. "I'm going to give you some of Wilhm's blood of course. In my opinion, which is the only one that matters very much right now, you'll be dead if you don't have it. You have the Old Blood and so does he, and his is the sort that anyone can have. You just sit still. I know what I'm doing."

  "Wilhm, don't move. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Aunt Whelsi."

  Then the witch began to sing. She had a beautiful voice and the song was equally beautiful. It was in some foreign or perhaps ancient tongue, though, so Mar did not understand a word of it.

  Nor did he understand the magic that flowed from the ether in response to the summons of the song, wrapping about her hands as she held their wrists together. The modulation was a bright weave of several strands that he could not identify and, as it formed, Mar felt a flushing warmth surge into the pale flesh of his arm. When her song ended, the magic and the surge dissolved.

  Mar did not feel great, but he did immediately feel some better. He looked at his wrist. There was no mark of any kind.

  During the spell, Wilhm had not moved all. He had not looked around, shifted his weight, or fidgeted. Except for the extremely slow rise and fall of his chest, he could have been made of stone.

  The nurse patted the giant on the arm and released his hand. "You did well, Wilhm. You go on and find yourself something to eat now."

  "No. I have to stay here."

  Khlosb'ihs and the others tensed, but Aunt Whelsi showed no sign of alarm. "Why's that?"

  "He is one of the lost ones. He is going to lead me to the pirate."

  THIRTEEN

  Mhiskva, as it turned out, was only half a span shorter than Wilhm.

  Mar had landed the galleys at the encampment and disembarked under his own power, magical and otherwise, but had not gone far, easing down into an empty cot under an awning set up near the mooring tower. When he woke in the late afternoon with a ravenous hunger and staggered outside, he found the marine Captain standing beside the all but motionless Wilhm, who had evidently followed Mar from the galley, occupied the spot, and not budged from it. Both men stood without apparent discomfort in the bald sun, unspeaking but evincing a relaxed stance that suggested that they might have recently done so. Mar noted that Mhiskva had his great axe slung across his back.

  Ulor and better than a dozen other marines were close by, leaning against the legs of the tower or sitting on sawn sections of tree trunks under another awning. They all also had weapons close to hand and made no pretense of the fact that they were studiously watching the pair.

  Mhiskva made the ancient imperial salute. "My lord king, how are you feeling?"

  "I'll live." His whole body ached and his left side was a single mass of throbbing pain. He could wiggle the fingers of his left hand, but any other attempted movement of that limb made him want to scream.

  "I had a surgeon look in on you. He said that all three bones in your left arm appear to be broken and it is likely that the upper one is out of the socket. I thought it best not to wake you, but you will need splints and he is within call."

  Mar shook his head. "I've been through that before. I'm going to try something else." He turned his attention to Wilhm. "Shouldn't you be with Orhv and Aunt Whelsi?"

  "No, my lord king." Then, quite surprisingly, Wilhm made the imperial salute as sharply and surely as had Mhiskva. In fact, his movements were eerily identical to the big captain's. What's more, his accent and inflection sounded like an echo of the marine's.

  Mar took a moment to ponder this mimicry, then said, "Oh, that's right. You said something about a pirate?"

  "Yes, my lord king. I must meet the pirate."

  Mhiskva's eyes narrowed. "Why must you meet the pirate?"

  "Because of the dreams."

  "I see." Mhiskva showed Mar a frown. "My lord king, I am not sure that it would be advisable to allow Wilhm to meet the Lord-Protector. I have spoken with his brother and some of the others that you brought with you from the city. They said that Wilhm can be unpredictable."

  Mar shrugged. "It seems to me that Lord Hhrahld can be just as unpredictable."

  "Exactly my point, my lord king. The combination of two such individuals might prove chaotic."

  Mar eyed the near motionless Wilhm again, thinking. "Chaos is not always a bad thing. Anyway, I imagine that Wilhm might learn a thing a two from Lord Hhrahld."

  "Like plundering and pillaging, my lord king?"

  Mar did not laugh. "Are you making a joke, Mhiskva?"

  "Certainly not, my lord king."

  "You know, Mhiskva, I was wondering about the resemblance between you, Wilhm, and Lord Hhrahld."

  The captain looked blank. "What resemblance would that be?"

  "You're all very big men."

  "There are many big men in Mhajhkaei."

  "But not as big as you three. You're not just tall, you're huge in every dimension. You're all at least twice the breadth of most m
en. I'd call you giants."

  Mhiskva chuckled. "Perhaps we are Gaaelfharenii."

  "I've never heard of them."

  "Oh, they are just an imaginary folk, my lord king, and not often spoken of beyond walls of the city. According to one of the origin myths of Mhajhkaei, a race of giants called the Gaaelfharenii, or Great Guardians, built the first settlement on the Bay of Mhajh many millennia ago. It has become quite common for hooligans to insult men of considerable stature by naming them 'bastards of the Gaaelfharenii,' but the myth suggests the Great Guardians were noble and heroic. Some versions of the stories promise, as all good folk tales do, that the spirits of the Gaaelfharenii will rise up when needed, called by their eternal loyalty to the city."

  Mhiskva paused, then added, "The truth, however, is not quite so legendary. My size, and likely Wilhm's as well, is simply a product of familial resemblance. My father was a big man and my grandfather as well. To add to that, my mother was a tall woman."

  Mar made a non-committal noise and spoke to Wilhm again. "After I take you to the pirate, you'll stay with him and do as he tells you?"

  Wilhm's head moved up and down.

  "Come on, then. I want to find something to eat and then visit with Aunt Whelsi for a little while. After that we'll see if we can't find you a pirate."

  Mar asked for and was speedily provided with one of the blocks of wood. His few halting steps had readily convinced him that he would not make much progress on foot. Thankfully, his magical abilities had recovered more or less to normal, and he had no trouble enchanting it so that it would float two span off the ground. Taking a seat, he gritted his teeth and with excruciating slowness draped his left arm in his lap. Once situated, he asked Mhiskva to lead him to the closest field kitchen. Wilhm followed placidly and Ulor and his marines immediately fell out to either side as escorts.

  Located in the open air, the field kitchen had half a dozen cook fires, twice that many cooks, all of them civilians, and a number of rough plank tables. The queue of armsmen that had already formed in the serving line gave way respectfully and Mar, goaded by his empty stomach, did not object to a privileged place at the head of the line.

  The waiting supper was a pre-measured portion of salted-beef stew served in a ceramic bowl with a wooden spoon already stuck into it, a handful of dry crackers and a large pickle wrapped in a swatch of white cloth, and warm water in a copper flagon. The woman serving him, simple logistics clearly trumping both his magic and royalty, made a of point of asking that he return the dishware to be rinsed as soon as he was done, since they were in short supply.

  Mhiskva and the marines assured him that they would eat later, but he insisted that Wilhm be provided a portion requisite to his size. Mechanically, the Mhajhkaeirii giant followed Mar to nearby table and squatted on the ground to eat. Mhiskva took a seat on the bench opposite Mar -- which of course permitted him an easy view of Wilhm -- and Ulor deployed his marines in a wide cordon around the three of them. Mar made no comment on the arrangement. Guards seemed an unavoidable fixture of his near future and the buffer would permit him some sense of peace and solitude while he ate.

  He was only half way done with his bowl when Lord Ghorn, his face seemingly fixed permanently in a stern expression, appeared through the ring of guards, nodded at Mhiskva as he leaned his cane against the table, and took a seat beside the marine captain. Only Berhl accompanied him.

  The prince flashed a brief, examining glance at Wilhm, then asked, "Are you recovering, my lord magician?"

  Certain that Mhiskva had already provided his commander a full report, Mar saw no need to dissemble. "My entire side hurts, but I'll make it."

  "Will there be any deficit to your magery?"

  "None whatsoever."

  "I am glad to hear that. We have no magicians to spare."

  Mar grinned. "I got everything we needed, though."

  "That you did, and in abundance. The galley full of foodstuffs was a quite helpful addition. You are eating some of it there. Had you died in the attempt, though, a few pickles would have done us more harm than good."

  Mar raised his good shoulder and let it drop. "Thievery always has its risks."

  The Prince-Commander frowned. "So much for getting in and out without anyone knowing."

  "All good thieves know how to improvise," Mar rejoined somewhat testily, then changed the subject. "Has work started on the rafts yet? We'd better get out of here as fast as we can. I had to use sand spheres to escape and the Phaelle'n might be irritated enough to send their skyships against us again."

  "I had already assumed as much and the rafts are part of the reason that I have come to see you. We have begun construction on some of the rafts, but like any plan that is thrown together on the spur of the moment, ours ignored some significant logistical problems. We have the manpower and now the tools to cut the logs, but as Berhl has pointed out to me, there are not enough standing trees within five leagues to build the hundreds of rafts that we will need."

  "Hundreds?"

  "Vice-Captain Berhl," Lord Ghorn prompted.

  "My lord king," the marine, apparently the closest thing that the Prince-Commander's diminished command had to an engineer, explained, "the useable length of a log from a tree between a third of an armlength and one armlength in diameter at the base is around fifteen armlengths. That'd give us a square raft fifteen armlengths in both dimensions that will hold no more than fifty people. Using our rough count of eleven thousand, at twenty per thousand, we'll need two hundred twenty rafts all together. We'll split the logs, of course, but I figure we'll still have to have in the neighborhood of twenty logs per raft. That's four thousand four hundred mature trees, give or take."

  Mar spit out an irritated curse aimed at Oos'ghlsiana, Mistress of Forests, Seedlings, and Shade.

  "It is not as impossible as it may sound," the prince amended. "We can get enough logs if we go farther afield. A stretch of the Great Forest extends down about thirty leagues northwest of here. All the logs that we need could be taken from there and we have two thousand able-bodied volunteers that we can set to felling and stripping in shifts."

  Mar nodded. "They'd just need transportation."

  "Yes. Your wife has offered to guide the skyships that we have. Those can rotate the workers and freight the logs back. We estimate that we should be able to harvest between two and three hundred logs per day. That's cut, split, stacked, and ready for transport."

  "That's still more than a fortnight just for the logs," Mar calculated, as Lord Ghorn no doubt intended. "The Brotherhood won't leave us alone for that period of time and I can't --"

  "-- be in more than one place at a time," the Prince-Commander finished. "We're back to our original problem."

  "It's worse than that," Mar corrected.

  Lord Ghorn's frown deepened. "How so?"

  "Even if we split the fleet between Telriy and me, I don't think it'll be possible to guide a hundred skyships in one train. Not and maintain any decent speed, anyway. The tail of the thing would probably swing wild. Any collision would be a disaster."

  The prince leaned back and drew a slow breath. "So, in your estimation, our original plan is unworkable?"

  "No," Mar answered slowly, thinking. "We just need more magicians."

  The prince raised his eyebrows. "I understood those to be quite rare."

  "They are, as far as I know, but I have some ideas. I'll know in a day or so if any of them will work."

  "Very well, my lord magician. However, there is still the problem of defending the sortie to retrieve the logs."

  "Maybe we're thinking in the wrong terms. You said sortie -- you've planed a large expedition in force?"

  "Have you another suggestion?"

  "I don't think the Brotherhood has any magical means to detect the skyships. If they had, their new skyships would've caught me last night before I reached the city. They can't attack something if they don't know it's there. If we moved the loggers out in the middle of the night, we could preven
t the monks from learning that we've divided our group. We could keep each run small, say one or two boatloads at a time, stay fast and high, vary the route, and land deep into the forest. As long as the loggers didn't give themselves away -- no fires day or night -- and word didn't otherwise find its way back to the monks, there'd be no need for me to try to be in two places at once."

  "There remains the problem of the length of time needed to acquire the logs and construct the rafts," Lord Ghorn pointed out.

  Mhiskva spoke up for the first time. "My lords, perhaps we could reduce the time in a similar fashion. With more magicians to act as helmsmen for the skyships, we could also begin moving small groups up to the plateau under the cover of darkness. The more people that we could transport in advance, the fewer the number rafts that we will need for the final exodus. As long as we maintain secrecy, there should be no more danger to the civilians than they face here."

  The prince nodded. "Excellent suggestion, Captain. I don't have anything to add or any better ideas, so I am willing to try this one. My lord Magician, I'd like to get started tonight. However, before we begin moving the civilians up, I want to send in a section of legionnaires to scout your plateau and secure it against our arrival. Will you be well enough to fly them?"

  "I don't see why not. We can be there and back in three hours."

  "Fine. Captain, make Number Three ready to sail an hour after dark. I'll order the First Section of the Defenders to stand to." The prince paused, then lowered his voice slightly and fixed Mar with this gaze. "My lord magician, I would like to ask your permission to have an orphan placed aboard Number One."

  Mar waited for further explanation of the peculiar request but none was forthcoming. The prince simply looked at him. Mar thought a moment and then realized the true nature of the request. He had wondered about the disposition of Prince Davfydd.

  "I suppose that this ... orphan ... will be accompanied?"

  "Only by Legate Rhel. He will be given over to the care of Subaltern Ulor's wife."

  Mar nodded. "I understand." To keep the young heir to the throne of the Principate safe, the Prince-Commander intended to hide him in plain sight. "Whatever you need is fine with me."